


Silent Whispers

by The_JellybeanQueen



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hearing Voices, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_JellybeanQueen/pseuds/The_JellybeanQueen
Summary: How a young girl named Isabelle Cheranova went from Jerome’s lover to Jeremiah's right hand woman, Ecco.
Relationships: Ecco & Jeremiah Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Original Female Character(s), Jerome Valeska/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. You Shouldn't be Here

**Author's Note:**

> At the age of 10 years, Isabelle Cheranova was recruited by the agency known as GRU, to be their spy, she was trained in virtually all forms of combat and use of weapons. Having stood out among the other children, Isabelle was selected for the Turing Project, who was to deploy units in bio-mechanical Wetware at age 16. Her mission was compromised and she went undercover, where she met Jerome Valeska. She is now around 18 just like the red headed twins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle catches Jerome in the act of killing his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this story in my google docs for a while and was too afraid to post it. I adore gotham and got absolutely trapped in its unique interpretations of the characters. Everytime i read a book or watch a movie or TV show I often insert myself as a character or create a new one as if I was part of the story. I know I'm weird. But my life is kind of boring so my imagination gets the best of me. Anyway I don't know if people even read gotham stuff anymore. I mean it ended like a year ago but I do so I thought why not?

The circus didn’t have many people to like. The Lloyds: annoying, and rude alcoholics. A family of clowns would be. The Graysons: petty, and vein as royalty. There were other families, just as bad but Isabelle didn’t want anything to do with them. The only reason she knew anything about the Graysons and the Lloyds is because of all the rumors that spread between the other families constantly. They knew nothing about her either. Years of nothing but eat sleep and work had caused her to loose her fight on flight attitude she developed as a spy. As far as the families knew, she was just an orphan providing for herself. The circus families may be full of liars and horrible people, just like who she was trying to get away from by running to America, but she wouldn’t be here long. The only one she could tolerate was Christine Horace. She takes care of the money in the circus. She's the one that took in Isabelle. Taught her how to count American money. They shared a trailer. Christine was always kind to Isabelle. Told her after she became old enough to live on her own she'd leave this horrible place, maybe get a real job and have a good life.

After she became old enough to live on her own she’d leave this horrible place, maybe get a real job and have a good life. Shouldn’t be too hard, she thought. Only a few years. It wasn’t too bad if she avoided everyone she’s could. Everyone left her alone anyway. Too busy with the Lloyd-Grayson drama anyway. Except Jerome Valeska. He loved to constantly pester her, mess with her, make fun of her Russian accent, entertain himself in anyway he could. She’s knew why, his mother was a nightmare. He needed something to distract himself with. And to her annoyance, he chose her.

_____________

After the night’s show started Isabelle decided to go to bed early. Tonight had been a full house and she left the ticket booth exhausted. Walking back to her shared traitor she tucked the curls that fell from her high bun behind her ears out of her face, and shoved her hands into her black coat. 

As she approached her trailer heard a blood curdling scream. She stops, thinking of all the horrible scenarios that could possibly deserve a scream like that. Once she was close enough to find the source of the sound she froze. Jerome was standing over his mother’s dead body. The hatchet he was holding covered in blood. Jerome slowly turned his head to look at Isabella. Once their eyes met his widened, not expecting to see her. 

“Isabelle” Jerome dropped the hatchet. Isabelle’s eyes drifted to Lyla’s still bleeding body. Jerome ran to her, she stayed frozen. She hadn't seen blood in years. Not a drop. The flood of memories made her nauseous. 

She turned to run and tell someone. But she didn't get far before Jerome was tackling her to the ground. She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but with his full body weight on her she couldn't move.

“Get off of me!” She yelled and tried pushing him off as they struggled. 

“What have you done?” A voice asked. The teens looked up to see Mr. Cicero.

With the boy distracted, Isabelle pushed Jerome up by his shoulders and slid out from under him.

“What are you doing here?” Jerome ask in a threat sounding tone, getting to his feet.

“I could ask you the same question” Mr Cicero responded. “Let me help you Jerome, come clean up in my trailer” he offered.

__________

Mr. Cicero instructed Jerome to change his clothes and tried to give Isabelle a piece of paper he had draw strange symbols on for her to carve onto the hatchet’s wood. On the back of the paper was an address of an old bridge nearby. "I want no part in this Jerome Valeska." she sneered at the boy. He snatched the hatchet from the old man and held the blade next to her face. "Then maybe you shouldn't have stuck your nose in someone else business, hm?" They stared with equal angered expressions. "We better get to work before someone notices Lila is gone." Cicero warned and left the trailer. Jerome smirked at her and she yanked the weapon from his hand by it's wood handle. "While the teens got to work Mr Cicero took care of Lila’s body. 

Making her way back to Jerome’s trailer, Isabelle was stopped by Haly the ringmaster’s voice calling her name. She walked towards him and the people he was with. 

“Have you seen Lila? Detective Jim Gordon here needs to speak with her.” Haly said, gesturing to the man on his right. 

Isabelle froze, not knowing if Jerome had cleaned himself up yet. “No I haven’t.” she said slowly, trying to get away from the conversation as soon as possible. 

“What about Jerome?” Haly asked. 

At the mention of someone Haley had not brought up Jim and his accompanist exchanged glances.

“In their trailer” she replied, trying not to sound nervous. 

Lee was noticed her thick accent. “Do you know where that is?” she asked.

Isabelle stared at the woman. “Yes”

“Mind taking us there?” Jim asked with a forced smile, getting impatient.

Haly already knew Isabelle and knew she was naturally shifty and quiet, but Jim and Lee found it strange. 

She decided leading the three of them to Jerome and his mother's trailer would seem the least suspicious thing to do since she already said she knew where it was. Jerome answered the door after a few short knocks from Jim.

“GCPD we need to speak with Lila.” 

“She’s not here.” Jerome said walking down the steps of the trailer, putting on a jacket. “Why what’s happened?” He asked with concern. “Where is she?” Jim asked, ignoring Jerome’s question. 

“Uh, I don't know. She was supposed to be home ages ago.” “Are you a relative?” Jim continued to question. “I’m her son, Jerome.” He replied.

“Jerome? When did you last see her?” 

“This morning. She was here when I left for the library.” 

“Relax Jerome.” Haly cut in. “He’s just here because Owen and Al had a disagreement.” Jerome looked at him. “Your mother’s fine. Gone on a spree no doubt you know how she is.” “A spree? Without her hat, her coat, or her purse?” Jerome asked looking back to Jim. 

“Look at Sheba. She’s distraught, she knows somethings wrong.” Jerome said approaching a snake cage. “The snake does seem to be agitated.” Jim said sarcastically. 

“Sir?” Haly cut in again. “She’s what you call a party girl.” He said getting closer to Jim, hushing his voice. Jerome rolled his eyes. “Coming back in the morning with her knickers in her handbag, sure as eggs.” “Well she didn’t take her handbag did she.” Jim pointed out. 

“How fast does an animal like that move?” Gordon asked. “Uh, fast walking pace. They rely on surprise mainly.” Jerome replies. “Let her out.” Isabella looked to Jerome. “I’m sorry?” “Let her out.” Jim repeated. Lee looked at Jim, wondering what’s going on in his head. 

They let the snake explore, slither across the circus ground. Using her strong sense of smell to find anything irregular.

Isabelle leaned close to Jerome and lowered her voice to almost nothing. "That creature can smell blood, you know this?"

"Course I do, shut up." he hissed. He knew he was screwed. And as always, he was taking his anger out of the girl. All he could do now was keep up his innocent son act.

After a while of search the snake climbed into the back of a truck with a white tarp on it. Jim pulled the tarp off of the truck to reveal Lila's dead body. 

“Oh my god.” Lee said. Jerome playing his part, fell to his knees whimpering. To the surprise of Isabelle, Jerome wrapped his arms around her legs and cried into them. Isabelle played along knelt beside him, pulling into an awkward hug. 

Jim looked to Haly, who looked unfazed. “You knew.” He accused, walking to him. “You knew she was here.” “No”. Haly defended. Haly looked to the ground. “Look at me.” Jim demanded. Haly looked at Jim and shook his head. “She was like that when we found her.” 

Jim looked back to Lila’s body, then back to Haly.

__________

"What do you know about Lila Valeska?” Jim asked Isabelle. The office door was closed and a small amount of light coming in though the blinds. 

"Nothing" 

"Nothing?" Jim asked, not convinced. She shook her head. "You seem to know her son." Jim accused. "He's my friend." She lied and shrugged. "But you don't know Lila?" 

Isabelle chose her word carefully. "She's not home often." she said, trying to keep it simple as possible. 

Jim sighed. "Do you have a phone?"

__________

After interviewing everyone about Lila's death they were sent back to the circus. Jerome said they needed to talk and asked Isabelle to his trailer. She reluctantly followed and Jerome locked the door. 

"You don’t seem afraid of me." Jerome asked leaning against the locked door. 

She looked up to him from her spot on the wall opposite of him, making sure her expression was unreadable. "I’ve done worse" 

He smirked as intrigue filled his blue-green eyes. "Worse how?" 

"None of your business." 

He simply smirked. “So were not so different.”

“Yes were are.” She spat, not wanting to be categorized with Jerome. “I’ve killed because I had to. You killed because you wanted to.”

Without answering he moved from the wall and began to walk over to her slowly. Isabelle didn’t move, knowing she could handle herself if he tried anything. He stopped, mere inches away from her. The new attitude and smirk on his face making her heart race. Jerome opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Isabelle’s phone ringing. "Where'd you get a phone from?" Jerome asked. "Stole it," she said with a sarcastic tone, though she wasn't lying. Isabelle flipped the phone open and looked at the bright screen to see it was an unknown number. She answered it anyway. "Ok well be there soon." she said, then hung up. 

"Who was that." 

"Detective Gordon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Chapter one. I don't know what to say. I should be doing school work right now but because I have online learning courtesy of coronavirus and I have the attention span of a celery stick I'm not doing it... Btw the first few chapters are somewhat inspired by Insane Like Me | A Gotham Valeska's Twins Story by coldleaf12 on Wattpad.


	2. She Just Kept Pushing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how to italicize on here so if dialogue is in ‘commas’ it’s Isabelle’s voice talking.

After the long and uncomfortably silent walk to the precinct they were led to an interrogation room. 

"Hi Jerome, Isabelle," Jim greeted as they entered the room. "You remember Mr Cicero from the show?" Jim asked. "Yes" Jerome replied. "Hello Mr Cicero" Isabelle greeted politely. "Good evening children" Mr Cicero greeted. Isabelle recognized the woman standing next to Jim from the circus. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” Jim asked. “Did you find out who killed my mother?” “You killed your mother Jerome.” Isabelle’s thoughts began to race. “Me?” Jerome looked taken back. Also wondering how the hell they figured it out. “You killed her up on that hill and Mr Cicero let you clean up in his trailer. He told you to scratch the Satanist stuff on the hatchet and throw it off the bridge.” Jim accused. “Sir that’s absurd and offensive.” Jerome responds. Isabelle kept quite, knowing better than to intervene. “But it’s the truth. What I don’t know is how Isabelle’s involved,” Jim admitted, staring into my eyes as if he would find the answer there, “and why this man risked so much to help you.” 

His eyes shifting to Mr Cicero. “I think he’s your father.” Jim claimed. “You don’t know why you're talking about. My father was a sea captain.” Jerome argued. Jim looked to Lee, then back to us. “Am I wrong Mr Cicero?” “Yes” Mr Cicero replied simply. “He was a sea captain. His name was Sven Carlson. He died at sea.” Jerome defended. 

“What was the name of his ship.” Gordon asked. “He worked on a lot of different ships.” “The one he went down in” Jim clarified. Jerome’s expression changed. “She never said” Jerome admitted.

“We can do a blood test to prove I’m right. Takes only half an hour to get a full proof result. Isn't that right Dr Thomkins?” Jim asked, turning her “Yes” she confirmed, looking a bit uneasy. “Save yourself a needle.” “I do hate needles” Mr Cicero grimiest. “I’m sorry Jerome.” “What are you talking about?” Jerome asked on the verge of tears. “He’s right, I am your father.” Mr Cicero admitted. Isabella moves her gaze from the desk in front of her to the pair on her left. “No you're not, why would you say that?” “You must have suspected the truth.” “You're not my father. My mother would never-“ “Your mother was a cruel woman, she was often unkind to me.” Mr Cicero cut off. “But she did once love me in her way. And” he reached to put his hand on Jerome’s, “she loved you very much. That’s why she gave you a better father.” Mr Cicero explained.

Jerome learned to the table and began to sob. Isabelle took Jerome’s hand in an attempt to comfort him. She looked down to the table to try and wrap her head around what was being said. She actually felt bad for Jerome. Until she heard laughing, and looked over to Jerome. He was staring at Detective Gordon with the creepiest smile she’s ever seen.

He turned to Mr Cicero. “My mother was a cold hearted whore who never loved anyone. And she’d never touch a pathetic, old, creep like you. Jerome denied with a dark voice. Isabelle’s breath became shaky. She’d never seen him like this. He’s insane. “All these years, do you think I was kind to you because I’m such a good man? If I wasn’t your father, would I have helped you as I had after what you did?” Jerome’s grip of Isabelle began to tighten, hurting her. She shakes her hand out of Jerome’s hold causing him to look over at her. While his eyes held frustrations and anger, hers were terrified. 

Jerome turned his glare back to Me Cicero. “My father. Hm. I’ll be damned.” We all stayed silent. He turned to Jim. “Oh it’s very funny.” Jerome crackled. “Looks like the bitch got me with a zinger in the end.” “Why did you kill your mother Jerome?” Gordon asked. “Oh you know how mothers are. She just kept pushing. And I’m like ‘fine mom. Be a whore. Be a drunken whore even. But don’t be a nagging, drunken whore.’ You know?” He explained. “Don’t come yelling at me to do the dishes if you’ve been banging a clown in the next room! He shouted, slamming his hand to the table with his left hand. This caused Isabella to flinch as tears leaked from her eyes. “You know?” He asked, then laughed maniacally. Jim quickly brought in officers to arrest Jerome and take him to Arkham. 

_____________

This didn’t make any sense. Jerome was a lot of things, but a killer? ‘He did it because his mother beat him.’ “No he did it because he’s insane!” Her thoughts. No, one was a more like a voice. A voice in her head like a whisper, no it was more like shouting. Like another person in the room. When it spoke it brought a sharp pain in her temple. The stinging began to draw tears. She sort of began to panic. 

Mr Cicero was led out by an officer and Lee moved to Jerome’s seat, and placed a hand to Isabelle’s shoulder. “She couldn’t have had anything to do with it. Look at her Jim!” “What happened that night Isabelle?” Jim asks her. 

Her temples began to sting again. ‘That was him. The real him. Isn’t he wonderful?’ “No he’s not like that. He’s not…” she mumbled, shaking her head. 

“Isabelle, look at me.” Gordon demanded, getting impatient. She lifted her head. “I understand you're shocked, tired, and probably scared. But I need you to talk to me. What happened the night Jerome killed Lila?” Jim asked a bit more calmly. 

‘Don’t tell him anything!’ She winces. Isabelle ignored the command. “I went to go see him after the fight started. I saw him on the hill with the hatchet covered in blood.” 

Jim sighed. “Alright, go home.” He says.


	3. Leave Me Alone Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella gets sent to Arkham.

It had been nearly a month since Jerome was sent to Arkham. Everyday living at the circus was getting worse and worse. No one would talk to her. And the ones that did only scolded her. Telling her how stupid she was for dating a murderer. Jerome and she weren't even friends let alone dating. Not that it mattered she didn’t exactly like anyone there anyway. But her newfound voice didn’t help the situation, always telling her to kill every single one of them for treating her so unfairly. How was she supposed to know Jerome was insane after how well he hid it? 

“Hey Belle!” 

Isabelle started her walk back to her small trailer at the edge of the circus later than usual. She had hoped watching the show, instead of selling tickets and leaving, would help distract herself from her unwanted thoughts. 

“Hey Belle wait up!” Mary Lloyd called again. Isabelle groaned at the nickname. She hated being called Belle. 

"Do not call me this." Isabelle grumbled.

“I just noticed you stayed for the show. You never stay for the show. What gives?” Mary asked with her nauseating friendliness. She still had her sparkly clown outfit and stupid makeup on.

“None of your business.”

“Jeez. You know ever since Jerome got locked up, you’ve been a real jerk.” Isabelle just rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should try the Ferris wheel. I know it always calms me down. Like that time me and John Grayson-“ Isabelle began to tune her out. She had become quite good at it due to the constant practice the past month had provided her. 

‘You should kill her’ says the voice. “I say one more time, leave me alone Mary.” she argued against it's suggestion. 

The two girls approached the game area. Isabelle glanced from her shoes at the sound of the High Striker game’s bell. She noticed how heavy the mallet held by the man playing the game looked. She thought of Jerome, and how happy he looked after ridding himself of his greatest burden. Isabelle’s hands twitched as they got closer to the game. 

“-but I guess I can’t blame you.” Mary continued. 

The man dropped the hammer to accept his prize. Once they got close enough, Isabelle picked it back up and waited for the clown girl to turn around.

“I don't think you could do any better than a ax murder.” Mary teased.

She noticed Isabelle had stopped walking. She turned to face Isabelle as the hammer was brought to her head as hard as Isabelle could manage. ‘Finally!’ The voice cheered. Mary fell to the ground. Isabella licked the blood from her lips, and despite all the attention she had drawn, she lifted the mallet above her head and brought it down again. And again. And again.

______________

After realizing what she had done it was too late. She was brought to the GCPD and sat in front of James Gordon. 

“Hello again” he started.

She sat in the chair with her knees to her chest. An uncomfortable position, but she felt less vulnerable this way. As if her legs provided protection. She didn't respond and kept her eyes to the table in front of her. 

“It seems just yesterday you were here last, doesn't it?” 

She still said nothing. 

“Would you sit normally please?" he asked getting frustrated at her silence. Isabelle let her legs go and folded her arms in her lap instead. "I’m still curious." Jim says, "How were you involved in Lila’s murder?”

Realizing it couldn’t get her in more trouble than she was already in, Isabelle and looked up at Jim. “I threw hatchet off the bridge.” she admitted. Jim nodded realizing that made sense. There’s no way Jerome and a blind elder could have hid the body, cleaned up Jerome, and taken care of the hatchet, all during the show without help. 

“And what encouraged you to commit a murder of your own?” 

She shook her head, still not looking at the detective. “I had enough” 

“Enough of what?” 

“I was tired of being punished for Jerome’s mistakes.” 

“And so you killed someone?” 

“Voice told me to.” 

“You hear voices?”

“Just one” she shrugged. "But there are probably more to come."

Gordon looked at her funny. 

Gordon let out a long sigh and looked at the officer standing in the corner. “Fill out the paperwork, send her to Arkham.” Jim said as he stood from his seat and left the room. 

She waited hours before she was finally transported to Arkham after being her full name and age, which she didn’t actually know. The whole way imagining every horrible thing that could happen to her in a building full of mentally ill men with minimal supervision. 

It was near midnight when she was thrown into a cell. Cold, anxious, and alone she curled onto the rock hard mattress and tried to think of anything other than Jerome. Anything other than the smile on his face when he killed Lila. Anything other than bashing Mary’s head in. And anything other than how much she enjoyed the rush it gave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope your all doing well all things considered.


	4. I Just Want to Start Over That’s All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say the first day is always the hardest. To Isabelle’s annoyance, Jerome is seeing to that. Lucky for her she doesn’t have to deal with it for long before her, and six other inmates are mysterious broken out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less than a month before summer break! Stay strong fellow students! Enjoy!

The Arnhem rec. room was the worst part of the entire facility. One of the only places you’re left completely vulnerable. One of the only places you're not locked in solitude and safe from the purely insane of Gotham. 

She looked around the room for a certain redhead. Isabelle groaned at the sight of him staring in her direction, sitting at a table with a blonde woman, a frizzy haired man, a distracted looking man, a bald guy, and a man with blue eyes. She wasn’t on the moon to deal with him. Too much was going on in her mind. 

Attempting to ignore his gaze she sat at a table in the corner. But she could still feel his eyes on her. Annoyed, she stared back. Amused by the stare down Isabelle started, Jerome stood from his chair and approached hers. He spun the chair across from her so that the back was facing Isabella and sat down, his arms resting on the rim of the back. 

"Well, well, well, looky who we have here" he gave a sly smile. 

"Go away" she replied, coldly. 

Jerome stopped at the notice of her bare arms. He supposed he'd never seen her in short sleeves otherwise he would have noticed. She had numinous scars, all shapes and sizes, up and down her skin. "Jesus how'd you get all those?" he asked in complete wonder. Isabelle realized this Arkham dress left her arms bare. Frustrated and annoyed with his newfound boyish behavior she licked her lips and sighed in frustration. Jerome didn't wait very long for her to answer, assuming she wouldn't. “A little birdie told me a last night a pretty young lady named Isabelle Cherry-somthin was being sent in today. I never like Mary Lloyd. The only thing she's good at is ruining lives and wearing sparkly skirts.” 

Isabelle scowled at his rambling. “My name is Cherenova.” 

“Really?” He laughed. She’d never heard him laugh until his interrogation. It reminded her of the clowns from the circus and made her skin crawl. “Well I think I like Cherry. So Cherry, how does it feel? To kill because you wanted to.” 

“Can’t you find someone else to pester?” 

“Most people here can't even speak in full sentences, and those who can would kill you faster than you can say hey.” 

“Ради бога (for God's sake)." she mumbled to herself. "I don’t care, go away!” She half yelled and slammed a fist into the table. 

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He soothed. It only made her angrier. She was glad they didn’t have anything useful in this damn asylum or she would be able to stop her frustration from getting the best of her. 

“I just want to start over that’s all. Maybe be friends?” 

Isabelle took a deep breath. “Why?”

“Because I like you.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow.

“I like your fire. And I like the funny way you talk.” He gave a sinister grin she recognized from the interrogation room.

She stared at him. He had to be planning something. They've hated each other for years. Why was he now wanting to make amends? 

“Hiya doll face. I’m Jerome.” He said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. 

‘This way he won’t bother you.’ As much as she hated giving the voice the time of day it had a point. Isabelle sighed and took his hand, 

“Isabelle”

Jerome smiled in satisfaction.

_______________

Only few days past and Isabelle was already losing her mind due to the boring routine that was Arkham life. She was used to be told what to do with a gun to her head but not having nothing to do. Shock therapy hurt like a bitch, she assumed that was for the amusement of the doctors because it didn't seem to be doing anything, and talking to the therapist was almost worse. She’d never admit it but she actually liked having Jerome there. He was constantly talking. Sometimes she couldn’t even tell what about. It didn’t really matter to her. 

“Good morning Cherry.” Jerome sang and sat down next to Isabelle. Isabelle jerked awake at Jerome’s sudden presents. One of the inmates nigh terror screams had kept her up all night. The rock hard mattress didn’t help either. 

Too tired to respond to him, she rested her head in her arms on the table in front of her. Taking the opportunity, Jerome took one of her blonde curls between his fingers, pulled it, and giggled as it sprung back into place. 

Annoyed at the dullness of the room Barbra gave a loud sigh. “Someone tell me a funny story.” Barbra commanded from the lap of Sionis while getting her toenails painted by Aaron. She must have spun a deal with his, Isabelle assumed. Jerome once mentioned if she ever needed anything he was the guy to talk to. He could get you anything and everything as long as you're willing to hold up your side of the deal, whatever it may be. It seemed to change from person to person. 

After a moment of though, Sionis chimed in. “I have a good one.” 

He began telling a story of when he was in college when a man was pushed into the room. He was round and had little hair on his head. The strange man spread his arms wide as the guard closed the gate behind him. 

“Greetings!” He exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. Isabelle sat upright and shooed away Jerome’s hand from her hair. 

"I am Zardon, the soul reaper!" After an awkward silence everyone went back to what they were doing and Richard continued his story. 

Most people would have been confused, frightened, and maybe even obey him. But this was Arkham Asylum. It wasn't the first time someone has come in the break room yelling at them with their delusions. 

“Hear me slaves! My patients are wearing thin.” Now he really had everyone’s attention. All eyes were on him. Isabelle returned chin to her hand but her eyes open and Jerome gazed up at him in wonder as he got on top of a table. 

“Surrender you souls to my mercy. Or I swear by the master I shall feast on your feast on your pain!” He threatened. For the first time in a long time Isabelle smiled, finding this hilarious. ‘Finally! Some good entertainment’ She hoped the irritation the voice caused would be easy to get used to. “I shall gorge on your torment. I shall crush you like a bug.” He finished. His maniacal laughter soon turned to coughing.

The man’s sudden coughs caught everyone off guard. Confused looks were shared throughout the room. After coughing hysterically for a few seconds he fell on his back and blue smoke oozed from his mouth. It was their turn to cough. After choking on the blue gas for what felt like forever bodies began to drop to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you haven't lost your mind in quarantine yet...


	5. Anyone Else Wanna Leave?

Isabelle fluttered her eyes open with a pounding headache. She clenched her fists and pulled at the leather straps restraining her to the metal dolly. When they didn't budge she looked around the room to see Jerome tied down on her right and Dobkins on her left. She turned her head farther and narrowed her eyes at the weird painting behind them. 

“What the hell is this place?” Greenwood asked just waking up from the gas. 

“It ain’t Arkham anyhow. Things are looking up.” Jerome said with a smile. 

“Welcome everyone,” Galavan said, walking into the room full of tied up criminals. A dark haired woman in pleather not far behind. “My name is Theo Galavan and this is my sister, Tabitha.” 

The men erupted with indistinguishable chatter while Isabelle and Barbra silently stared. Galavan put his hand up to quiet their voices. “I understand you are confused, scared, a little groggy but please, relax. Today is the first day of a wonderful future, for all of you. If you want.” 

“Who are you?” Isabelle asked. She always made sure to be aware of her surroundings at all times. It was her way of staying in control of any situation. 

“Well now the question is who are you?” He asked, looking down the row of criminals to her. “The world sees criminal lunatics. I see brilliance. I see cariama,” Theo said now in front of Isabella. They stared at each other. So much for freedom. “and power. I see power.” He continued down the row to Barbra. 

“Yes, exactly my man. That is so spooky, that it is me to tea. These other bozos uh-I don’t know but your singin’ my song.” Jerome says like he does and says everything: with a smile. 

“Quiet Jerome” Sionis called from across the room, causing Jerome to glare. “Keep talking” he continued. Isabelle hated Sionis. He had an annoying amount of power over everyone around him. From what she understood he could get anything he wanted if he asked the right people. 

Theo continued to switch his gaze on each of the ex inmates. “Imagine a group of outlaws, like yourselves, each selected for a unique ability, all working together as a team. Imagine the synergy. Imagine the impact. Gotham would tremble before you.” 

“What do you get out of that?” Isabelle asked, surprised no one else had already. 

“You’ll learn soon enough.” Gavalan responded smoothly. Isabelle scowled at the non straight answer. 

It was Barbra’s turn to chime in. “Well that all sounds fabulous, but I’m not a brilliant outlaw.” Everyone took their eyes off Theo to look down to Barbra at the end of the row. “I just have…hmm...issues.” 

Theo made his journey to the end of the row in a few short steps. “You have ferocity and beauty and desire. And that’s enough. Come with me Barbra.” He said, bringing his hand to her cheek. “Whatever you want in the world, it’s yours.” 

“Theo?” Isabelle internationally groaned at the sound of Sionis’s voice. Again. She was about ready to dislocate her thumbs to get out of these restraints. “That’s your name right? Theo, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. First of all, keep your hands off her.” What does he think she belongs to him? They met yesterday. “Second, this whole ‘magic team’? I gotta pass. I don’t take orders. Good luck on everything though. It’s an intriguing concept.” 

Galavan slowly made his way toward Richard, saying “This is very disappointing.” 

“Oh fair play. You want a reward for busting us out of Arkham. I’m grateful. How’s a million bucks sound? Pretty good? I can get it for you today. As soon as I hit the streets.” Sionis offered. What exactly is this clearly millionaire going to do with a million dollars? 

“Money’s not the concern.” Theo replied. “I had such high hopes for you. I didn’t anticipate sexual jealousy. That always poisons the mind.” Theo continued with distaste. “You have to go.” 

Richard was released from his restraints by an intimidating guard. Isabelle narrowed her eyes. Something about this didn't feel right. Why would Theo break them out of Arkham just to let him go if they didn't want to join the team? He didn't seem like the type of man to take no for an answer. 

"Ms. Keene is coming with me." demanded approaching her dolly. 

"Oh, she doesn't want to go where you're going." 

Before Richard could protest a leather whip held by Tabitha wrapped around his neck. With everyone's wide eyes on the scene he was pulled to the ground. Tabitha straddled and stabbed him repeatedly, blood splattering all over Tabitha and Greenwood. The inmates held shocked expressions except Greenwood, who enjoyed the probably contaminated blood of Sionis all over his face, and Jerome who was maniacally laughing at the sudden entertainment. 

Tabitha finished with Richard and looked up to Theo with sadistic satisfaction. 

Galvan looked to the shocked prisoners " Anyone else wanna leave?" 

No one dared say a word. 

"Wonderful. Dinner will be served soon but in the meantime Tabitha will show you to your rooms. In about half an hour there will be a guard sent to escort you to dinner." 

Isabelle found it a little weird that he was having Tabitha escort. He did have several guards in this room alone, why not have them do it? Bossy older brother much?

After rubbing their wrists where the leather strapped left marks Theo's ‘dream team’ followed Tabitha to the bedroom hall. She showed who's room is who’s and instructed them to change into the outfits provided and left. Isabelle's room was across from Jerome, to the left of Aaron, and the right of Barbra. 

There was a king sized bed in the middle of the room. On top of the white comforter was a pair of silk looking pajamas and a simple black dress. Isabelle sighed, tired of wearing dresses and looking forward to the pajamas. And the comfortable mattress. After changing she lied on the bed. More comfortable than she imagined. But she didn't like this. What does a man like Galavan get out of a group of lunatics terrorizing Gotham?


	6. I Have Planned a Series of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galavan gives the inmates their first assignment.

The group dressed in their nice outfits, with some looking better than others, was brought into the hall to walk to the dining room for the dinner that Isabelle could smell from her room. She didn’t have much experience with many types of food so she couldn’t tell what it was. 

Jerome came up behind her and she slightly jumped as he leaned close enough for her to hear his whisper "Lookin' good gorgeous" 

Isabelle glared at him over her shoulder for startling her. “Your shoes untied.” she said. 

Jerome looked down to see and remember his shoes didn't have laces. "Oh good one Cherry." he snickered.

They entered the dining room to see a giant table covered in a wide variety of food. The group stopped to stare at the feast. Isabelle didn’t know what half of the food was, but assumed it was all delicious judging by the smells. Jerome had never seen this much food in his life. Barbra was overcome with happiness, she may not have been there long but she'd rather stare than eat Arkham's food. The other inmates were just as excited. 

“Right on time” Galavan praised, coming from behind them. He sat in a cushioned chair at the end of the table and motioned for them to do the same. 

Jerome sat next to Isabelle for reasons she didn't know. She still had no idea what his problem was. He’s hated her guts for two years. How could he change his views so quickly? How could he go from being an abused little kid to a murderer? The old Jerome would have sat as far away from her as the building's walls would allow and give her the death stare from across the room. 

“Please, help yourself with whatever you can reach.” Galavan said. The group immediately dug in, filling their mouths with whatever could fit. 

After a good half an hour Theo tapped the edge of his spoon against his crystal looking glass. As he expected no one looked up from their plates. He continued anyway. "I hope your rooms are to your liking. I'd like to start off and say thank you all for your help. If you do your part, I know you'll do great things. I have planned a series of events for you all to accomplish within the next month. Your first: setting a name for yourselves." 

The inmates eyed each other in confusion. Theo noted this and smiled at the fact he now had their full attention. "You will be taken to the Yellen shipyard to retrieve a few captives. Then you will drop them off the Gotham Gazette building." Galavan explained. 

He paused and turned his attention to Aaron. “Aaron, due to your impeccable strength you will be tossing the hostages off the bridge. Robert, you can paint the letters onto their jackets.” He smiled and gave a dark laugh, excited to stretch his legs after being stuck in Arkham for so long. “Arnold, with your-“ he paused, searching for a way to explain a schizophrenic's brain. “‘creative’ mind I’m sure you can come up with a name for our little team.” He giggled with anticipation. “Isabelle, with your experience with ‘secret missions’ I need you to make sure nothing goes wrong. Keep the boys in check.” 

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. How could he possibly know about her work in Russia? 

“Oh I know all about you and the Turning Project…” 

Her eyes widened in fear. An emotion she didn’t she'd been trained for years not to show. If anyone, especially someone like him, knew about her old life her new one could be put in danger. 

Galavan smiled, amused he had something other than death to persuade her to follow his plan. “Don’t worry my lips are sealed. That is if you cooperate.” 

He turned to Jerome. “Jerome, I'm sure you could add some flare to the whole operation." he was busy gulping away from his glass, but gave a thumbs up. 

Barbra waited for her name, but it never came. 

"Right then" Galavan said, standing from his chair. "I have some things to attend to so when you're finished my men will escort you back to your rooms." 

He made it halfway out of the room when Barbra said “What about me?” 

He turned slightly and simply replied “Your time will come.” 

His absence left an awkward silence in the room. Isabelle could still feel the inmate's eyes on her from Galavan's threat, so she was the one to break it. “I'm finished,” she said and stood from her chair. 

“Me too” Barbra said, also standing up. 

The boys all looked at each other and got up as well. A tall man with a large gun in his hands followed them closely behind out the door. Once they reached the bedroom hall the group departed and entered their separate rooms.

____________________________

Everyone in the Galavan penthouse lay asleep, except two teens with the same topic on their minds. 

Jerome’s head was full of questions. What the hell is the Turning Project? Why is her hair so pretty? Who the hell is Isabelle Cherry if not the russian girl running the ticket booth? He shook them all off. He didn't like to think about things for too long. It would ruin the surprise if he made conclusions himself. He’d get her to tell him. Like a sort of game. He loved games. 

Isabelle laid awake wondering how her life even got to this point and who she should blame. She thought of her father leaving her and her mother with nothing. How a strange man proposed her mother riches in trade for her daughter. Isabelle had so many people to be angry at she couldn't choose. As anger began to make her skin hot, her thoughts and the voice fought for dominance. No voices. There was more than one this time. She couldn’t tell if they were male or female, young or old, it was just indistinct chatter. She thought about that too. She’d never heard voices before. Not until Jerome showed his true colors. Maybe it woke something inside her. The voice seemed to like Jerome’s idea of revenge. It did tell her to exact the same on Mary. She didn't have to listen. She could have simply slapped Mary, but she didn't. 

Her mind somehow drifted to Jerome. What a creepy kid. What an idiot. What a creepy, annoying, stupidly handsome and wonderful insanity inspiring idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who just graduated, congratulations! For those of you who just started summer, have a great one! Hope You enjoyed!


	7. Now That's a Headline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotham Gazette building

The inmates woke up to the loud banging on their doors bright and early. They were told to change into their Arkham outfits and come down for breakfast in fifteen minutes. Breakfast was as amazing as dinner. Galavan reminded them of the plan and asked Dobkins for the group’s new name. He slid a piece of paper towards Galavan. He picked it up and gave a slight chuckle. 

“Perfect” he said and passed the paper around the table. The literate half of the group made a face at Dobkin’s spelling of the word “maniacs''. He used an X instead of a CS. 

_____________________

The group was brought to the penthouse’s garage. “Good luck everyone.” Galavan called as the Maniax loaded into a black van. 

Once they all got situated Tabitha joined them. 

“What are you doing here?” Greenwood asked, looking her up and down hungerly. Isabelle wondered how she was able to use as much movement as she did in such clothes. 

“Keep staring and I'll scoop your eyes out with a rusty spoon.” she threatened. Greenwood surprisingly complied. 

“So...what are you doing here?” Dobkins asked timidly. 

“While you're busy with the hostages, I'll be stealing a gasoline truck for your next assignment.” 

"Did Galavan tell you to?" Isabelle wondered allowed.

Tabitha made a face. "Yeah, so?"

"Do you do everything your brother tells you?" she teased. 

Tabitha hesitated. It was true, but in her eyes it was only because her brother was the brains, she was the brawn. It had been like that for years. Tabitha had never saw it because she was less than her brother. "Shut up." Tabitha growled. 

Isabelle leaned back and smirked. Jerome did the same, amused with the girl's exchange.

Kidnapping the hostages was easy enough. Getting them into the straitjackets was the trick. The Maniax were instructed to keep the hostages conscious to make their fall more dramatic. Once they managed they all sat in the back of the van with a huff. 

They wouldn't stop freaking out. Isabelle’s voices plus the whines of grown men became unbearable. She couldn't take it anymore. “Shut up before I make you!” she shouted. The boys looked at her in shock. Her face became red at the sudden attention. 

She leaned back and folded her arms. Jerome chuckled at her embarrassment and stretched his arm around her shoulders. She made a face and pulled his arm off her. Jerome took advantage and grabbed her hand tightly, which Isabelle didn't bother letting go of cause she knew he’d try something else. Besides, she didn't exactly mind it.

_____________________

Isabelle wished she hadn't complained about putting their hostages in the straitjackets because dragging them to the top of the Gazette building was five times as hard. Little did they know Tabitha was watching them from afar.

"Perfect. Next, Mr. X" Jerome said sitting on the edge of the tall building. Dobkins stood aside, his work done. Greenwood stood in the back spraying the letters on the white jackets. Isabelle leaned over the edge of the building next to Jerome. She never took the time to stay and watch the result of her killings. She found the way the shapes the blood made around the different sized men fascinating. 

Aaron picked up the next victim and placed him on the edge. Jerome stopped him with a raise of his hand. "A little to the right," he instructed. Aaron obeyed. "Okay that's the spot" Aaron pushed off the building. 

"Perfect" Jerome repeated. 

Isabelle gave a small chuckle. Mr. X’s blood looked like a duck. Jerome smiled at her amusement. He reached down and took one of her long curls between his fingers. 

“Stop touching my hair.” Isabelle said, not looking away from the blood’s art. 

She may not have hated holding his hand but she did hate when he touched her hair. 

"What should we do with the spare?" Dobkins asks, pointing toward Greenwood holding the last hostage with one hand and a red spray paint can in the other. 

They kidnapped an extra guy in case one escaped. 

Jerome thought for a second. "Oh!" he swiveled his body and hopped off the edge. "I know". 

He approached the shaking man and took the paint can from Greenwood. He painted a big exclamation mark on his white outfit. He threw the paint can aside. "Aaron would ya kindly?" he asked with a smile. 

Aaron raised the man above his head with as much ease as a child with a doll. Dobkins was jumping up and down and clapping as a small child would be waiting for a balloon or something. Aaron tossed the man over the side as the rest of the group looked over to see him hit the ground. 

"Maniax" Aaron read. Who knew he could read? 

Jerome laughed. "Now that's a headline." he laughed hysterically.

_______________________

Commissioner Essen called everyone into work bright and early so they could get as much done as possible. She took the stand confidently. She knows if she wants to keep this position she needs to appear up to the task. “You all know what we're facing here. Two days ago, six criminally insane inmates were busted out of Arkham Asylum. Yesterday four of those into Yellen Shipyard, kidnapped seven workers, then dropped them off the roof of the Gotham Gazette building. As of now, we still have no leads on the persons or persons behind the breakout.” 

She stepped aside and turned to Jim. “Jim” she said, giving him permission to take over. 

“These are our targets.” Jim says. 

He approached the projector in the middle of the room and switched it on. It showed mug shots corresponding to the inmate Jim spoke of. “Jerome Valeska, 18 years old. Psychopath, matricide.”, “Isabella Cheranova, around 18 years old. Signs of schizophrenia, homicide.”, “Aaron Helzinger, 38 years old. Intermittent explosive disorder, parricide.”, “Arnold Dobkins, 27 years old. Schizophrenia, poisoner, rapist.”, “Robert Greenwood, 35 years old. Cannibal, gynocide.” Jim hesitated for a moment before saying “Barbra Keen, 25 years old, parenticide.” 

As Jim finishes the officers give each other in discomfort. They had their work cut out for them all right. “We're going to work this in groups of four. I’ll hand out assignments throughout the day.” Jim said, walking back to the front of the room. 

“Alvarez is my coordinating officer. Any questions?” The room stayed silent. “Let’s get to work!” Jim commanded.


	8. The Whole City Knows Your Name Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the Maniax drop the hostages off of Gotham Gazette.  
> Barbra meets Tabatha.  
> Jerome and Isabelle begin to warm up to each other.  
> Jerome and Isabelle eat their first doughnut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little scared for this one because of all the point of view changes but i think it all panned out nicely.

Each member of the Maniax had their thing. Aaron is strong, Greenwood eats people, Dobkins was weird, Isabelle was mysterious, Barbra was pretty, and Jerome laughed. He laughed all the time and at everything. 

He dreamt of all the way he wished he could have killed his mother, unfortunately he could only choose one. The one where he used her panties to strangle her caused him to laugh in his sleep. He laughed so hard he rolled off the bed. The impact caused him to wake up. He groaned, sat up, and laughed again at the fact he fell off his bed. Jerome ran a hand through his messy, red hair and stood up. 

He exited his room and approached Isabelle’s. He leaned his head against the door to listen in. When he heard no sounds of movement, he assumed she was still asleep. It made sense, it was still early. None of the bedrooms had locks so he simply opened the door. He quietly got close enough to her bed to gently pull on a curl that came loose from her hair tie. He loved her hair. Isabelle shifted at the feeling and her eyes fluttered open. 

When she realized Jerome came into her room uninvited, while she was asleep she jumped. “What the hell are you doing in here!” she yelled at him. 

Jerome jumped on her bed with her. “Saying good morning. Good morning!” he smiled. 

Isabelle knew her anger would only encourage him. It always did back at the circus. “Get out of my room” she said as calmly as she could. 

“Or what?” he teased.

“Or I'll punch you in the teeth.” she growled. 

Jerome giggled. "Don't be like that. We're friends now remember?" Isabelle thought back to her first day in Arkham when he reintroduced himself. As if that changed anything. "I'm serious, get out." Jerome held up his hands in defense. “I just assumed you’d be interested in breakfast doughnuts.” 

“I’m still tired.” 

Jerome figured if he was going to get her to tell him anything about the Turning Project he should get her to like him first. He didn't exactly know anything about her so this would be interesting. 

"Don’t you like doughnuts?” he asked, crossing his legs to get more comfortabe. 

Isabelle heavily sighed and sat up to mirror his position. ”I don't know what a doughnut is.” she admitted. 

He smiled sweetly this time. “Well I’ve never had one either, why don’t we try one together?” he offered. 

Isabelle’s annoyed expression softened. She stared at his and noticed for the first time how well his green eyes complimented his red hair. 

Her voices brought her back down to earth. 'You're staring'

She flinched and looked at the alarmclock on her nightstand. Jerome noticed her flinch. 

“I’m tired, not hungry.” 

Jerome clenched his jaw at her stubbornness. He debated pushing harder, but decided letting her be would make her happy. And he was able to make her happy, she’d like him and his plan would be a success. 

Isabelle saw his jaw clenched and prepared for a more aggressive invitation. To her surprise Jerome shrugged and hopped off the bed. 

“Suite yourself” Jerome said, and whistled his way out the door. He even closed it. 

Isabelle sat in confusion. She’d assumed holding her hand was just a new way to tease her, because she had gotten so used to all his others. But Jerome ignoring his impulses for her was a little extreme for the sake of teasing.

________________________

Because their next task wasn't until later today, Galavan allowed the Maniax to do whatever they wanted as long as they stayed in the building. 

The boys sat around a table eating doughnuts and drinking tea and coffee. Barbra poured herself a cup of tea and left. 

Galavan came down the winding staircase to greet the Maniax. “Fine job yesterday lady and gentlemen. We opened big.” Theo said, assuming Isabelle was among them. He held up the day’s newspaper and looked at the group. “The whole city knows your name now.” 

Isabelle's absences caused him to stop in his tracks. “Where is Isabelle?” 

Aaron, Dobkins, and Greenwood shook their heads. However Jerome spoke up, “I tried getting her up but she said if I didn’t get out of her room she’d punch me in the teeth.” 

Galavan nodded with a small, amused laugh and continued.

_________________ 

Having nothing to do, no one to talk to, Barbra roamed the many floors of the penthouse. 

After turning random corners she reached an empty hallway lined with windows and satin curtains. She took the curtain in her hands and felt its texture. It reminded her of the sheets she had at home. The sheets of the bed her and Jim used to share. Barbra sighed at the thought of Jim Gordon. 

She looked out the window and stared at the tiny people and cars below her. She wondered how Jim could let this happen to her. Then she remembered Lee Thomkins. Thinking of Lee and how she stole Jim from her, Barbras hands clenched around the soft fabric of the window’s curtain. She thought about all the things she would do to her once all this was over, all the things she could do to mimic the pain she felt losing Jim. 

The crack of and whip, followed by a female’s laugh brought her back to earth. Barbra let go of the curtain and followed the sound. 

She turned the corner and ran into the mayor with a box over his head, which caused him to cry out in fear. Tabitha's laughter stopped at the sight of Barbra. 

“What are you doing up here?” she sneered. 

“There’s nothing to do up here.” she said, putting emphasis on “to”. 

Tabitha smirked at her snarky remark, she liked Barbra already. She took a second whip she had tied around her waist and offered it to Barbra. “Care to join me?” 

Barbra smirked back and accepted the whip. 

“Hold it here and keep your hits quick like this.” Tabatha instructed and demonstrated. 

Barbra smiled at the new form of entertainment. 

“Or you can do it like this.” Her hit made the mayor jump into the room the boys were in. 

“Now me” Barbra said, pulling her arm back and hitting the mayor in the back like Tabitha showed her. 

“I am so glad that you two are getting along.” Galavan said to the girls. 

Tabatha rolled her eyes and turned to look at her brother as he continued. 

“But we're a little busy here, so if you could leave the poor mayor alone.” 

“We're bored,” Tabitha replied. 

“Yeah” Barbra agreed. “Why do they get to have all the fun?” 

“Your time is coming. I told you.” 

Jerome found it odd how Barbra went from little miss issues, to whipping the mayor and demanding to get her hands dirty. 

Theo looked down at the mayor lying still and then back up at the girls. “You haven’t killed him, have you?” he asked annoyed. 

“No, i don't think so.” Tabitha replied and hit the mayor in the chest with her whip. He jerked at the impact and cried out in pain. 

“Nope, hanging in there.” Tabatha said. She took a doughnut from the boy’s table and bit into it. 

“When?” Barbra asked, drawing Theo's attention to her. “When is my time coming?” 

“Soon, in the meantime why don't you tell me about Jim Gordon.” 

Barbra stepped closer to him. “What do you want to know?” 

_______________________

After multiple failed attempts to fall back asleep Isabelle turned on her side to see the alarm clock to see it was only eight fifteen. About twenty minutes since she last looked. Isabelle cursed Jerome and got out of bed to go to the bathroom. 

Once she washed her hands she looked up at herself in the mirror. She took her hair out of the loose ponytail she slept in to keep it under control in the mornings. 

She’d never been very fond of her hair. Jerome sure seemed to like it. 

As she stared at her reflection she wondered if he really did want to be friends, or if Jerome was just trying to mess with her head. She decided to just go with it. Fake nice Jerome was better than not nice Jerome. 

Isabelle attempted to make her hair decent looking. After succeeding she put a bra on and left her room to go find out what a doughnut is. 

After what felt like hours of searching she ran into a guard and asked him for directions. Turns out Isabelle wasn't even on the right floor. 

When she found the room she saw the boys sitting around a table, Tabitha eating a doughnut by the window, and Barbra and Theo mere centimeters from each other. 

"What do you wanna know?" Barbara asked Galavan. 

Jerome looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Good morning sleeping beauty." 

Isabelle didn't reply. She just stood beside him, picked out a colorful doughnut and took a bite out of it. She smiled at the sugary pastry. 

"Pretty good isn't it?" Jerome asked and lightly hit her leg. She smiled down at him, the doughnut putting her in a good mood. 

"What were you doing up there Goldilocks? Jerome said he woke you up." Greenwood asked with a smirk. 

"Do you eat people raw or do you have, like a recipe book?" Isabelle asked, narrowing her eyes. " 

"Whatever you'd prefer" 

All the angered voices caused a spark of pain from her head down her neck. 

Theo finished with Barbara and approached the table. "Greenwood" he warned. 

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Isabelle continued. 

"It was a threat but come to think of it, I haven't had human flesh in a while." he replied looking her up and down. 

This made Jerome's fist clench. He wasn't sure why, he was just being nice to her as a game. 

Isabelle opened her mouth to threaten him back but Jerome beat her to it. Without thinking he stood up from his chair. "You touch her, I'll force feed you your own fingers." 

Galavan placed a hand on the boys’ shoulders. "Greenwood, there will be no eating of other Maniax members and Jerome, no force feeding other members." 

'Greenwood is such an asshole! Kill him!' Isabelle's thoughts told the voice to shut the hell up. 

"If we fight amongst ourselves how are we supposed to work together?" The boys continued to glare at each other. 

'Why don't you mind your own business Galavan?' 

Isabelle noticed her voices getting worse. Not only were they talking more often, but the pain they brought was getting worse too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos!


	9. I'm The Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Greenwood play a friendly match of russian roulette to choice the Maniax's leader.  
> Jerome and Isabelle's relationship continues to develop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is somewhat inspired by Sea of Bad Days by dysFUNctional on Quotev. Its an amazing story check it out!

After breakfast Galavan led Isabelle and the boys to a room full of boxes of random junk. Barbra had no interest so she ran off with Tabitha. 

Isabelle searched through a box of sharp objects and found a black holster carrying five throwing knives. She smiled and wrapped the holster around her thigh. Isabelle was trained to use all kinds of weapons, her favorite being throwing knives. She took a knife from the holster and got familiar with its weight. 

“Ou, shiny!” Jerome said as he grabbed a samurai sword by its sheath. Laughing, Greenwood came up from behind him and snached it. 

As he started swinging it around Isabelle turned her attention to the boys to watch the drama unfold. 

“Give that back.” Jerome demanded, clearly annoyed. He had his hand outstretched, waiting for Greenwood to return the weapon. 

“I saw it first.” Greenwood claimed. 

“No you didn't.” Jerome said, dropping the sheath. “I said give it back.” he demanded again with a sarcastic smile. 

Greenwood pointed the sword to Jerome. “Make me, you little brat.” Greenwood taunted. 

“Oou” Dobkins uttered and chuckled. 

Isabelle hit the side of his metal helmet with her new knife. “Don’t encourage them.” she said getting annoyed. He stuck her tongue out at her. 

“Your samurai skills are excellent Greenwood-san, but they are nothing compared to me.” Jerome said in an accent, picking up a chainsaw. “Prepare to die!” he exclaimed dramatically and turned the chainsaw on. 

Greenwood mimicked the sound it made and laughed. When the weapons collided sparks flew. 

“That’s enough! I said…” Theo called walking into the room. 

“I tried to stop them,” Dobkins complained. 

“Boys, we're a team. What have I said about fighting?” Galavan said, separating them. 

“Yeah we're a team boys.” Dobkins teased. 

Isabelle rolled her eyes and looked over at Aaron. He wasn’t paying any attention. 

“And i’m the captain.” Greenwood claimed with a smirk. 

Jerome dropped the chainsaw and glared. “Captain of my foot. “I’ve murdered a douson woman, terrorized the city.” Greenwood bragged. “What have you done? Chop up your mommy?” 

“Everybody has to start somewhere. See I have vision, and ambition, and brains. You’re just a nutty old cannibal. How many people can you eat before that shtick gets old?” 

“I could eat one more.” the cannibal threatened. 

“I can see we’re gonna need to settle this once and for all.” Galavan intervened. 

Jerome nodded and Theo took out a revolver. He let the five bullets fall into his hand. “You all know this game right?” he asked, holding up a single bullet. 

“Oh love it.” Jerome replied confidently before returning his glare to Greenwood. 

Isabelle knew this game all too well. It was called russian roulette for a reason. “Wait, wait. Galavan, our missions will be difficult without them both. Aaron and Dobkins aren't very-” 

“Smart? Efficient?” the millionaire suggested. “I’m aware,” he said, then placed the bullet in his hand in the chamber. “But it’s going to get even more difficult if these two don’t release their tension.” 

“Relax darling, i’ll be fine.” Jerome smiled cockily and tilted his head, not looking away from Greenwood. Did he keep a list of nicknames or do they pop into his head?

Theo smiled at the forming staring contest and held out the gun by the barrel. “Who wants to be the boss?” he asked. 

Jerome took his eyes from Isabelle’s to look at the gun, then to Greenwood. “Ladies first.” he insisted. 

Greenwood smiled at him and took the gun to point at his head. He pulled the trigger. He was safe. He nodded and handed the gun to Jerome, which he yanked from his hand. 

Isabelle narrowed her eyes when Jerome shook the gun before bringing it to his pale temple. “Hey Greenwood?” he cocked the gun. “What's the secret to good comedy?” He widened his eyes and pulled the trigger. 

Theo ducked in case he was in the splatter zone. No bullet. 

Jerome cocked it again and brought the gun under his chin this time. 

Isabelle sighed in realization. This was the oldest trick in the book. 

“And what's courage?” he pulled the trigger again. 

Isabelle scoffed at Jerome’s display. She leaned against the wall and messed around with her knife. 

“Grace under pressure,” Jerome continued. “And…” he cocked the gun a final time and leaned close to Greenwood. “Who’s the boss?” he asked in a whispered. 

After a suspenseful moment he pulled the trigger. 

Galavan smiled wide and breathed deeply. 

“I’m the boss.” Jerome finished. He chuckled darkly and held the gun for Greenwood to take. 

Seeing no point in continuing he reached for his gun. “I believe you are Jerome.” Galavan said, taking his gun from Jerome's hand. “I believe you are.” 

Jerome turned to Galavan quickly, put his hands together, and bowed. “Arigato Sensei” he said, returning to the accent. “Hoo” he said and took back the sword, and then “Hee!” as he went off to swing it around the room. 

Isabelle looked up from her knife and smiled at the cannibal’s embarrassment. 

Galavan turned to Greenwood and smiled. “Now Greenwood, I need you to stop picking a fight with the teenagers all right?” He asked as if he was a school principal telling a bully to be nice to the other kids. 

He growled in response and dug through the chest for a different weapon. 

“Good. I’ll see you all for lunch. No more trying to kill each other!” Theo instructed before leaving the room. 

“Yeah, no killing.” Dobkins repeated. 

Jerome twirled over to Isabelle’s spot on the wall and wrapped an arm around her waist. She couldn't tell if it was an act of his newfound affection or to keep her from getting away from him. 

“Congratulations, boss” Isabelle congratulated sarcastically. 

“What? Not proud of me?” 

She said nothing and continued to twirl the blade against her finger. 

“I’m flattered how worried about me you were.” Jerome smiled.

“I wasn't worried.” 

He tilted his head. “Oh?” 

She finally looked at him. “Well I was at first. But then you shook the gun to feel where the bullet was. I knew you weren’t gonna die and so did you.” 

Jerome laughed and smirked. 

The morning sunlight that shone through the tall windows on either side of them caused Jerome’s red hair to glow orange, and Isabelle's honey-blonde golden, the sun bleached spots almost white. 

“I’m impressed, smarty pants.” Jerome complimented. 

Isabelle exhaled a small laugh. “It’s the oldest trick in the book J.” 

Jerome froze the nickname. There was only one other person on the planet that had ever called him that. Someone he hasn't thought about in years. 

Isabelle noticed he was taken back. “You can give nicknames and I can't?” 

“I'm not complaining, it's just…” 

The air filled with awkwardness as Jerome stared off into space searching for an explanation. When he looked back to her confused expression he naturally did the first thing he thought of, he laughed. “I didn’t think you liked me enough for a nickname.” 

Isabelle smiled, rolled her eyes. “Shut up dufus” she said and pushed his arm off her waist causing Jerome to chuckle. 

“Eh, I prefer J.”

_______________________________

Lunch was amazing as always. Galavan gave the Maniax a choice this time. They could either burn down the senior home, or blow up a bus full of cheerleaders. 

“Burning a building would be a lot easier.” Isabelle reasoned. 

“No one cares about a bunch of old people, they're gonna die soon anyway.” Greenwood argued, then took a bite of his sandwich. 

“Besides” Jerome raised his hands to paint a picture. “Maniax blows up a bus full of highschool cheerleaders’ gives a much bigger chill than ‘Old home burnt down.” 

Dobkins nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, i don't want to hurt old people.” Aaron added. 

Jerome smiled. “It’s settled then.” 

Isabelle's never had a problem with killing people before, but she's never killed kids her age. But Jerome was the boss so what could she do? 

Isabelle raised her hands in defeat. “Fine”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if all this mention of Isabelle's hair is annoying. Its just I've never read a fanfic where the girl has curly hair. Or curly blonde hair for that matter and I do so...


	10. Give Me an O!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maniax capture a bus full of high school cheerleaders in an attempt to blow it up.

The five Maniax loaded onto the oil truck and began to drive around town wearing the same straitjackets their Gazette hostages wore. Galavan told them the bus’s route so they parked and waited. 

Jerome, Isabelle and Aaron sat inside the truck boredly staring out the window, with Greenwood and Dobkins smoking outside, also gaining impatience. 

Isabelle grew bored of listening to her voices spout nonsense and groaned. 

“I hear ya Cherry. Lets play a game!” he offered and cupped his hands in front of his eyes like binoculars. “I spy with my little eye something…” he spotted the schoolbus. “yellow.” 

The rest of the crew saw it too. 

“Yeah Gotham!” Greenwood cheered, banging the side of the truck. 

Aaron started the engine and the two jumped onto the side of the vehicle. Jerome took his feet off the dashboard and pointed forward. Aaron followed the school bus. 

Aaron took a different street to come from the side of the bus. He honked the truck’s horn which caused the drive to stop, allowing Aaron to park the truck in front of the bus. 

They got out and Isabelle swung the bag of shackles she had on her lap over her shoulder. Dobkins held the door open for Jerome. Once he was out instead of simply walking, he gave a twist and a slide to the door of the bus, then tapped on it with his gun and gestured for the driver to open it. Afraid to get shot he did, but of course Jerome shot him anyway and the cheerleaders screamed. 

He ran up the steps of the bus and held his arms out. “Hello everyone!” he greeted cheerfully. 

Isabelle took the shackles out of the back and handed a few to Greenwood for him to help. Meanwhile Aaron prepared the gasoline hose. Dobkins dragged the dead driver to sit next to a terrified cheerleader to get him out of the way. 

“If you would kindly hold out your hand so this lovely lady and gentleman could handcuff you, we’d really appreciate it.” asked politely.

It took Isabelle less than a minute to have her half of the bus cuffed. She returned to the front of the bus and Jerome admired her work. “You seem to be quick familiar with handcuffs.” he said and smirked. 

“Yeah thanks J, can we hurry this up before Gordon and his lackeys get here?” 

“You're right. Hurry up Greenwood!” he called down the bus and giggled at the scowl he got in return. 

‘Look at these privileged sluts. Getting to live their lives without a care. They don't know anything about pain. You should make them feel it.’ Isabelle winced, leaning against the seat in front of her. 

Jerome grew a concerned look. “You okay?” 

“Yes, just a headache.” she half lied. 

“Ah” he said and turned to face his audience. “I want you all to know this was a very difficult decision for us.” Jerome said, walking down the aisle. “It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.” he continued and pointed his gun to a dark haired cheerleader. “In the end we decided to skew a little younger. Youth won the day! Sorry.” he got to the front of the bus again. 

“Give me an O!” he demanded cheerfully. When he got no response he shot the ceiling as a warning. “I said give me an O.” he demanded more forcefully. 

“O” they whimpered. 

“Give me an N” 

“N” 

“Give me another O” 

“O” 

"What does that spell?” he asked, taking the gas pump from Greenwood. “Oh no!” Jerome and the teens said together. 

Screams erupted as Jerome sprayed gasoline on the students. Despite Isabelle’s discomfort, a dark part of her found all this entertaining. 

Once the inside of the school bus was coated in gasoline he tossed the hose aside and pulled out a lighter from his back pocket. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Dobkins chanted, jumping up and down. 

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome bent down and flicked the lighter, but the gas didnt light. He stood straight. “This is so embarrassing.” he said and walked up the first few steps of the bus. 

Isabelle crossed her arms nervously. If they didn't light this truck and leave Gordon would come and throw them back in Arkham. 

“Anyone got a light?” he asked the terrified cheerleaders. 

Dobkins remembered he had one in his pocket he brought to light cigarettes. “I do!” he said and pulled it out. Jerome reached out for it, but the sound of police sirens stopped his hand. 

“Oh great, now what?” Isabelle asked Jerome. 

“Relax kitten we’re fine” he reassured. "Stand your ground, they can't shoot at the bus.” He pulled out his gun and shot at the police cars. The group followed his lead. 

Gordon quickly realised if they shot at the bus, they’d risk hitting the students inside. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” He commanded the other officers. They complied and kneeled helplessly behind open doors of their cars. 

“Aaron, Greenwood, Cherry,” Jerome said her nickname sweetly with a smile. “Get the truck started. We're gonna blow this barbeque.” 

The three of them lowered their weapons and ran to the truck. 

In the absence of bullets Jim ran behind a different car to get a closer shot. 

Dobkins watched Jerome spin and shoot at Jim. He missed every shot and let the gun fall out of his hand when he ran out of ammunition. “Light em up!” Jerome told Dobkins. He picked up the still running hose and sprayed the outside of the bus, cackling maniacally. Dobkins tried lighting the bus but the lighter wouldn’t ignite. 

Jerome ran and jumped onto the truck, still laughing. Aaron began to drive the bus away, causing Dobkins to panic. While he tried desperately to get the gasoline to light Gordon advanced forward. 

He pulled Dobkins up from his shirt and the lighter fell out of his hand. Jim’s heart skipped a beat when the previously useless lighter caused the gasoline to ignite. He punched Dobkins in the face, knocking him to the ground, and ran onto the bus. He figured out how to start it and drove it out of the path of the gasoline stream. Gordon stopped the bus and turned to the frightened cheerleaders. He noticed a dead man sat up next to one of the girls who he assumed was the bus driver and grimised. “Everybody okay?” 

“Yeah'' someone replied. 

After the fire was put out officers with lock picks came onto the bus and started freeing the teenageres. Jim grabbed a now conscious Dobkins by the arm and handcuffed him. 

Tabatha had prepared for this. She knew if any of these criminals were to get captured, they would share who broke them out of Arkham. For her brothers plan to work they couldn't have that so when she followed them on missions she carried a sniper rifle with her in a wooden case. 

“Who broke you out Dobkins?” Jim asked, pulling him towards the police cars. “You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later, tell me now.” 

“I’m a victim here sir. I was coerced. Abducted and coerced.” Dobkins defended. 

Jim stopped walking and turned Dobkins to face him. “By who?” 

Tabitha prepared her gun, this was a perfect shot. 

“If i tell you that I gotta get some guarantee-” 

Tabatha took the shot. Two shots, the first the the forehead, the other in the side of the chest. She cursed herself, she could've done better. 

In fear of getting shot too Gordon hid behind a car, gun in hand to defend himself. He looked over his shoulder to try and identify the culprit but saw no one. 

Tabatha took her gun apart, put it back in the case, and flipped the latches closed.


	11. There's Nothing More Contagious Than Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Barbra distracts Jim, the remaining Maniax cause trouble at the GSPD precinct.

Once Aaron drove the four remaining Maniax members a safe distance from the scene they parked the car and got out. Isabelle took the police outfits out of the bag and passed them around according to their sizes. They all unstrapped their straitjackets to reveal blue button up shirts. They put on black jackets, black pants, and police caps and walked the rest of the way to the police precinct. 

They got to the front of the building and were met by Galavan’s men and Barba. At the sight of their arrival she entered the building. Knowing the number by heart Barbra dialed the number. After a moment of ringing she heard Jims voice. 

“Gordon”

“Hello Jim, it's Barbra.” 

“Hi Barbra, how are you?” 

“Oh, me? “I'm fabulous. How are you?” 

“I'm good. What's new?” 

“Mr Cool Guy, huh?” 

“You must be so mad at me.” 

“Listen to me. If you turn yourself in, I can help you.” 

She scoffs. “How Jim? By taking me back to Arkham? I don't think so.” 

“You're sick.” 

“Of course. Everythings always my fault. So typical.” 

“Listen to me.” Jim says more seriously. “I know you Barbra. I know you. You're a good, kind woman. This isn't you” 

This causes her to chuckle derisively “You could always make me laugh.” she says then laughs evilly. 

Jim could have sworn he could hear the laugh in person and looked over his shoulder to see Barbra inside the building. “How do i look?” she asks with a smile.  
Jim hung up the call and followed her out of the building. 

Jerome saw a woman with blonde hair and red gloves and knew it was Barbra. That was their cue. 

He turns to Isabelle “Ready cupcake?” 

“Yep” 

He laughs at her obviously fake smile. “Oh come one Belle, this will be the funnest mission yet!” he reassures and takes the lead into the building. 

Isabelle wondered if Jerome kept a list of nicknames, or if he just pulled them from thin air. 

Galavan’s men spread throughout the building, looking for the best advantage points. Greenwood and Isabelle stayed at the back of the room with smoke bombs ready while Jerome continued into the commissioner office. 

For fun he put on a thick Jersey accent. “I need to talk to Commissioner Essen right away. It’s an emergency.” 

An officer cluelessly replied “Yeah, go ahead, she’s eight upstairs.” 

He entered her office. “Yo commish” 

She looked up from her desk “Yeah?” 

Her shock made Jerome smile. She tried to quickly dig a gun from her desk drawer, but Jerome was quicker. He pulled the gun from his holster and Essen froze. 

“Heard you were looking for us.” he said quietly. 

Greenwood and Isabelle activated their smoke bombs and tossed them across the room. The explosion caused Jerome to jump. The eruption of gunfire made Essen squirm, eager to help her fellow officers. Jerome kept a big smile as he held Sarah at gunpoint. 

Meanwhile Barbra baited Gordon to an alleyway near the precinct. With Jim gone, killing everything that moved was an easy task. 

Once they were sure everyone was dead Jerome instructed Isabelle to tie the commissioner to a chair. She groaned at the newfound power the russian roulette stunt he pulled gave him. 

Isabelle finished with the ropes and said “There you go J” putting emphasis on his nickname. 

She was still curious with his reaction to the nickname the first time she used it. 

“Thank you Cherry Blossom.” he smiled. 

He had to admit, it was fun to see what type of names would get a reaction out of her. He’d been thinking about using things a couple would use like “Honey” “Sweety”. The mix of emotions on her face when he used “Darling” that morning could still make him chuckle. 

Jerome moved in front of Sarah. He whistled as he threw his hat to the side. “Hell of a first week you’re having commissioner. I wish I could tell you that things are gonna get better for you.” he said, taking off his jacket. 

Isabelle sat on a desk behind him and copied his actions. Greenwood set up the camera brought by one of Galavans men and pointed it at dead bodies as they weakly begged for help. 

“Hey Green, bring that up here. Get a better angle of the room.” 

Isabelle raised an eyebrow “He gets a nickname too?”

Jerome couldn't place what emotion her tone held so he twisted slightly to see if her expression would do better. It didn’t.

“Why? You jealous, gumdrop?” 

Yeah, definitely pulls them out of his ass. Isabelle looks away to hide her smile. Jerome saw it anyway which only encouraged him. But before Jerome could continue Essen cut in. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“To rule the world. Bla, bla, bla. But we’ll settle for some dead cops and some good PR.” he breaths a laugh but goes back to his serious expression. “Kidding”

“Yeah, whatever, I get it. You're just crazy.” 

Jerome tilts his head at the label. “Crazy?” he stalks forward and kneels in front of her. “Look at me” he says darkly, creates an intense eye contact, and gestures to himself. “You can see i'm not crazy.” 

“Very soon little man, you will be dead.” she says just as dark and maintains eye contact. “And the world will go on without you.” she continues in a whisper. Jerome lays his head on his fist. “You’ll be nothing. No one will even remember your name.” 

“Mmm… No. That is where you’re wrong, old lady.” Jerome says and stands up to grab the sides of the chair and lean over her, getting in her face. “We will leave a mark on this city.” he got closer to her and she turned away. “We will spread across it like a virus.” he whispered. “Do you know why?” Essen turned back to face the ginger with a glare. Jerome prepared to say his punchline but Greenwood beat him to it. 

“There’s nothing more contagious than laughter.” he said with a chuckle. 

Jerome looked up from the commissioner to shoot Greenwood twice in the chest. Isabelle's voice went ballistic thanking God, upset she couldn't do it herself, admiring Jerome's boldness, fearing what Galavan might do when he finds out. It sent the usual pain through her body. She groaned and shook her head but ignored the pain, too happy with the cannibal's death. 

She stood from the desk to stand over him and noticed the life still in his eyes, so she took one of her throwing knives she had kept in her pocket and plunged it into the bullet wounds and sliced down his stomach with clenched teeth to finish the job. Greenwood let out one final cry in pain before dying.

The display made the commissioner grimace and Jerome smile and laughed darkly. Isabelle let out a breath to compose herself. 

“Look at you Issy.” Jerome said with an impressed smirk. Jerome turned back to the commissioner. “Now where was I?” 

Essen looked back at him, shock now replacing her anger. 

“Oh yes. There's nothing more contagious than laughter.” he repeats. He started to laugh in her face, but she spit in his. He furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. “That was strangely pleasant.” he smiled and leaned in. “Do it again.” She headbutted him this time. He grunted in pain and threw his head back. 

Isabelle looked up at the bloody mess she made to see Jerome's bleeding nose. She suspected it was broken too. Great. A dead body and a broken nose to explain to Theo. But still, she smiled. He deserved a broken nose, and then some. Isabelle stood up from the pool of blood that came from Greenwood and wiped her hands on her pants. 

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” Essen declared, proud of the pain she had caused Jerome. 

He came back forward and was laughing maniacally. “You got me.” he admitted with blood dripping down his pale face. “My turn.” he said darkly and laughed even darker. He grabbed his gun and pushed it against her stomach, as if to taunt her. “Goodbye commissioner” he growled and pulled the trigger. 

He turned around and pointed to the camera Greenwood dropped when he shot him. “Hand me that would ya?” he asked Isabelle casualty, as if he didn’t just murder Gotham’s commissioner. 

“Hurry, I’ll go get a car started.” she said and handed him the heavy piece of technology. 

After a few minutes of waiting Isabelle heard police sirens. Jerome came running out the back door of the precinct. Isabelle honked the car’s horn to let him know what car she had hot wired. He joined her smiling like an idiot. 

After four blocks of laughing he sighed and put his feet on the dashboard. “What did the cop say at the commissioner's funeral?” he asked.

“Huh?” Isabelle asked, confused at the random question.

“What did the cop say at the commissioner’s funeral?” Jerome repeated slower. 

“What?” she asked, realizing it’s a joke. 

“Nothing.” he said, laughing at his own joke. 

It took Isabelle a second, but once she realized both the cops and the commissioner were dead, she smiled. “Your jokes are as bad as your personal space issues.”

Jerome gasped dramatically and put his hand to his chest. “I don’t have personal space issues.” 

“Really? I dare you to go the rest of the day without touching me.” she challenged.

“You’re on,” he said and crossed his arms in his lap. 

__________________

Jim ears were ringing from the intense beating Aaron just gave him. The blood on his face had mostly dried. He cursed himself for being manipulated by Barbra. And he cursed Barbra for stooping so low. He groaned and slowly sat up. He leaned behind him to grab his gun and hurried back to the GCPD as best his aching body could. 

When he walked in his heart dropped. He could see the dead cops everywhere, he could see Nigma was injured and Ms Kringle was shaking, and he could see Lee checking the twitching officer’s pulses. 

“Lee!” he called. 

She turned to see him and rushed up to him “Jim!” 

“You hurt?” he asked.

“No, I was in my office and I heard gunfire, and I hid.” She raised a hand to his battered face. “Where were you?” 

“Barbra was here. She lured me away.” he explained, ashamed he let this happen. He looked up to the commissioner office. “Essen!” he called. 

As he ran up the stairs leading to the office he heard an officer say “It’s okay. Just breathe. Breathe Come on, it’s okay.” This told Jim it wasn't okay, and something was very, very wrong. 

He moved the officer out of the way to reveal the commissioner on her back with a bullet wound in her side. Lee checked her pulse and felt it was slower than it should be. The look she gave Jim let him know. 

He shook his head slightly and kneeled next to her. “Hang on Cap. Hang on.” he tried to sooth. She continued to gasp. “Boss. Boss. Stay with me.” She looked at him. “Breathe” he said quietly. 

She took a deep breath in and out. “It’s a new day, Jim.” and weakly smiled. Her gasping stopped and her body went limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. I Wasn't Talking To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle helps with Jerome bloody nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out school won't be going back this year in my area thanks to the number of cases going back up in my state. I can feel my depression peaking already ha ha...heh...heh. *clears throat*. Yeah it was all fun and games til the media gave me hope. Had me thinking we would go back to normal but noooooooo. Ugh. Anyway this chapter was somewhat inspired by Chocolate by Darling_Mint on Wattpad. Another great story I think you should definitely check out.

The pair walked into the penthouse, Jerome pinching his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

They managed to sneak to the elevator without running into anyone. Once inside Isabelle pressed the button to their floor. The elevator slowly began to climb floors and Isabelle united the elastic band that held her curls in a loose ponytail. Jerome side glanced. He remembered their bet and fought the urge to reach out and pull on one to watch it spring back up. But having the bet made it five times more tempting and Jerome had horrible self control. He reached out with his free hand. 

“What do you think Galavan will do to you for killing Greenwood?” Isabelle asked and Jerome's hand dropped. 

He scoffed. “Nothing. I'm the boss, remember?”

The elevator door dinged. Isabelle stuck her head out and looked both ways down the half to make sure they were alone. When the coast was clear she got out and walked toward her room with Jerome right behind her. 

“There you are.” Gavalan said from behind them. “What are you two sneaking around for?” 

“We’re not sneaking around,” Isabelle denied.

“Right…” he trailed off. “Well I just wanted to let you two know what a wonderful job you did.”

Isabelle and Jerome look at each other. The blood on his face was now dry.

“You’re not mad about Greenwood?” she asked.

“Of course not. If Jerome decided his death would enhance the plan, then I trust his judgment.” Theo smiled pleasantly. 

Jerome turned to Isabelle and smiled smugly. 

“So Isabelle, why don't you go help Jerome get cleaned up?” Theo suggested. 

Out of frustration of Jerome always seeming to be right, Isabelle roughly grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him toward his bedroom door. 

Before she could shove him into the room he held the door frame and planned his feet. “What ever happened to Dobkins?” he asked curiously.

Galavan stopped. “Due to his capture we had to have Tabby eliminate him.” he explained simply. His casualty concerning. One slip up it could easily be one of them. 

Her grip tightened around Jerome’s sleeve and attempted to push him into the room, but he pushed back. “One second gorgeous." he whispered to her. "Mr Galavan if it’s alright with you i'd like to go take care of some unfinished business outside of the building tomorrow.” Jerome said politely. 

“I don't see why not, you have proven yourself loyal. But just in case, Tabitha will accompany you.” 

“Great!” he exclaimed before Isabelle used her whole body to shove him into the room and close the door behind him. 

“Geez Cherry, what’s the rush?” Jerome giggled at her eagerness and followed her into the bathroom. 

“Don’t trust Galavan.” she said wetting a washcloth and turned to face the blood covered ginger. “Sit” she commanded, pointing to the bathtub. 

He sat on the edge. The wet cloth barely touched his face and Jerome winced and jerked away. “Hold still” 

“It hurts,” he whined.

“Yes, she head butted you in face.” she reminded him and reached for his nose with the washcloth. Jerome grunted in pain and grabbed her wrist. 

Isabelle let out a frustrated breath and pulled her arm out of his hand. “Fine,” she said. She yanked her arm out of his hand and threw the cloth in the sink, crossed her arms and leaned against the sink across from him. 

They sat in their frustration for a moment, then Jerome broke the silence. “What’s your problem with Theo?” he asked. 

“What “unfinished business” do you have to take care of?” she snapped back.

“I asked you first.” he said and looked into her eyes. 

She thought about the consequences of telling him her suspicions and wondered if he would tell Galavan. He was the only person she could tell, keeping the information was killing her. 

Isabelle jumped behind her to sit on the counter next to the sink. “Don’t you think his plan is suspicious?” 

He laughed. “Course it is. But who cares? He broke us out of Arkham, letting us create chaos,” he listed. 

“Yes but what does he get out of it?” 

Jerome chuckled. He stood up and sat next to her. He snaked his arm around his waist causing Isabelle to wonder if this would become a regular occurrence. Jerome decided to test the waters and let his hand roam. To his surprise, Isabelle did nothing. To stuck in her head.

‘Galavan is dangerous.’ the voice told Isabelle. ‘Kill him before he gets a chance!’ 

“You did good today.” Jerome encouraged. 

“Hm?” Isabelle asked, confused. Then she remembered how satisfying her knife was against Greenwood’s flesh. “Oh,” she smiled slightly. She finally noticed his hand’s position on her thigh. She squirmed and covered his hand with hers to prevent him from going any further. 

Jerome smiled at her sudden discomfort for a moment, then went serious. He looked strait ahead of him. “I’m going to kill my father. I’m going to make him bleed for what he’s done to me.” he growled. 

They silently looked into each others eyes again. Having him distracted Isabelle reached behind her into the sink. She grabbed the still wet washcloth and whipped it against Jerome's aching nose. 

“Ow, bitch!” he exclaimed, which caused Isabelle to laugh. Jerome loved laughing at others, not so much being laughed at. His mother would laugh at his pain back in the circus. 

Letting his anger get the best of him, Jerome hopped off the counter and brought Isabelle with him by pulling her by her arms. He let go of her arms and forced her against the wall with his arm at her chest. Isabelle let out a harsh breath of air at the harsh impact of the wall. 

“What the hell Jerome?” she yelled. Jerome smirked at his leverage. He took a knife from Isabelle's holster and raised it to her cheek. 

Remembering Jerome was a psychopath, Isabelle was scared now. The bathroom was small and she had nowhere to go. So she’d have to fight back. 

She kicked him in the ribs as hard as she could. Jerome’s back hit the sink and he grunted in pain. Isabelle lightly touched her cheek where Jerome had held the knife. 

‘Maybe should have gotten him to move the blade from your face before kicking him.’ the voice taunted.

Jerome held his ribs and looked at her darkly, Isabelle took two knives from the holster and held one in each hand. They stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to attempt to stab first. Jerome lunged to tease her, and giggled when Isabelle flinched. 

Tired of his game she put her knives back and turned to leave. She needed to clean up her cut. “Мудак ” she mumbled on the way out. She’d get her knife from him later.

He didn't need to speak russian to know what she said. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the bathroom roughly. “What was that?” he asked, bringing the knife to her neck this time. 

“Asshole!” she translated before kneeing him in the crotch. He fell to his knees and groaned. Isabelle took the weapon from him and threw it out of the bathroom, unbuckled the holster and did the same. She pushed his shoulders so he was lying on his back and straddled him. 

Jerome started laughing hysterically despite the pain between his legs. “Do that again, I might fall in love with you.” he teased. 

Isabelle’s left eye twitched at the echo of voices singing in her ears and Jerome tilted his head in curiosity. “What? Did you not sleep well last night?” 

“Shut up” Isabelle whispered.

“Okay cranky pants it’s late, maybe we should get you to bed. Do you want two bedtime stories, or a lullaby and one bedti-” 

“I wasn't talking to you!” she shouted.

“Then who were you talking to?” Jerome asked with a snicker. “The little voices nagging away at your thoughts?” he asked and reached up to poke her on the forehead. Isabelle slapped his hand away and got off his lap. 

“Hey where are you going?” he called after her. “I thought we were having fun!” 

Isabelle ignored him and left the room. 

Jerome sat up. “Oh Cherry, such a stick in the mud.” 

Isabelle went across to Barbra’s room hoping she wasn't off with Tabitha. Barbra opened the door and immediately noticed the somewhat bleeding cut on her across her skin. “How the hell did that happen?” she asked, grabbing her face and turned it to the right to get a better look. Her and Isabelle weren't friends, they knew nothing about each other. But Barbra figured in a world like this, especially in their situation, girls have to stick together. 

__________________

“Jerome did this to you?” Barbra asked disinfecting the cut. “You're lucky this doesn't need stitches. 

“Was my fault.” Isabelle sighed and untied her necktie and took off her boots to get more comfortable. She wondered how big of a bruise such heavy boots could have caused Jerome. 

“How was it your fault?” Barbra demanded. 

“I provoked him” 

“It doesn't matter what you say to him, men have no right to treat a woman like this.” grumbled angrily, more to herself than Isabelle. Isabelle exhaled a small laugh through her nose. 

Barbra finished with the bandage on her cheek. She walked into her bedroom and layed on her bed with a huff. 

Isabelle approached the door. “Thank you”

A memory popped into Barbra's head. She was sick of having people like Jim lie and keep her in the dark, so she now made a point to know everything about everything and everyone. As soon as Galavan mentioned “The Turning Project” she promised herself she’d pry everything she could get out of Theo. “Isabelle?” Barbra called and sat up from her bed. 

Isabelle stopped and waited for Barbra to speak. 

Barbra considered her how pissed Isabelle must have been about Jerome, she was right. Isabelle was ready to slit Jerome's throat. “Nevermind” Barbra said finally and rolled over on her side. 

“If you want to ask something just ask.” Isabelle moaned. Jerome was right, it’s been a long day and she was cranky. 

“I talked to Theo about you and I was just curious… how did you get out of Russia alive?” Barbra asked.

Isabelle wanted to get angry that Barbra would pry Galavan on information about her, but then realized she couldn't answer if she wanted to. She couldn’t remember how she escaped. At the time, her body had been taken over by fear. She had thought of nothing but what they’d do to her if they heard she failed. Her mind thought nothing but “RUN”. 

“I don’t remember…”

Barbra looked unconvinced. “Really? You escaped the most dangerous people in Russia alone and don't remember how?” 

Isabelle looked to the floor. “I don't know.”

“A sixteen year old Goldilocks entered America with no passport undetected?" she paused. "Did you steal a boat?” 

‘How about you mind your own business you slut.’ “She’s not a slut.” Isabelle mumbled. Isabelle had grown a habit to talking back to the voice. Or voices, depending on the position of the sun and the direction of the wind it seemed. ‘How do you think she got this information out of Galavan?’ the voices argued. 

“Who’s not a slut?” Barbra asked, confused at the teen’s change of subject. 

When Isabelle didn't answer Barbra smiled softly. “You hear voices, don’t you?”

“Yeah” Isabelle replied, sounding almost ashamed. 

“They called me a slut, didn’t they?”

Isabelle nodded.

“Well I didn't sleep with him, but I do have my ways.” Barbra said and patted the spot beside her on the bed. Isabelle sat next to her awkwardly. “He told me you know every form of martial art, and how to turn anything into a weapon.” Barbra asked giddily, as if they were talking about their crushes. Little did Isabelle know, that would come next. 

Isabelle smiled slightly. “Not anymore, I haven't used any of in years.”

“Can you still speak Russian?”

“Yes, it’s my mother language, not easy to forget.” She remembered being taught English by the strict teacher set on her back in training. She was the best at everything, except English. The only reason she spoke it so well now was constantly being around talking people at the circus. 

Isabelle stared at a random spot in the room. Barbra stared at Isabelle. Noticing the cut on her cheek wasn't the only thing that marked her skin, wondering what kind of horrors she must have been though. Barbra sighed and shook her head. “Jerome is such an asshole. Shame you won't end up with someone nicer.” 

Isabelle looked at her confused. “What do you mean?” 

“He’s a charismatic young man, and you’re a pretty young lady. You’re bound to end up together considering you’re the only girl he has to work his magic on. Bet he’ll be your first. You are a virgin aren’t you? I’d assume between your childhood, and living in the circus you haven't seen any action.” Barbra rambled. 

Isabelle turned to something of discussed. “Barbra-”

“Call be Babs.” 

“Babs, Jerome hurt me.” Isabelle held a hand against her bandaged cheek. “Only thing i want to do slit his throat and watch him bleed.” 

Barbra giggled. “You say that now. I hate Jim for taking that little whore’s side, and sending me to Arkham. But I’d still kiss him for hours if he’d let me.” 

Isabelle realised despite the sting he caused her face, she would like to hold Jerome’s warm hand again. And maybe kiss him. Maybe…

“Love does weird things to us." Barbra continued. "It can make us over look murder, made us murder, we can't choose who we fall in love with so we gotta be careful.”

Isabelle nodded, showing that she understood and yawned.

“One more thing before you get some well deserved rest,” Barbra took Isabelle's hands in hers. “Be careful, Jerome is manipulative and reckless and will probably get himself hurt, don’t let him drag you down with him.” 

Isabelle nodded and got up from the bed. She smiled her way out and into her own bedroom. She still didn't like this whole situation, but at least she now had a girl friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate change. I HATE it. Change sucks. So tv shows ending is like my nightmare. Gotham ended more than a year ago and I think about it like 24/7. So hopefully finishing this fiction will help me let go. I was thinking about doing a Marvel one. Maybe Thor and Loki little sister×Peter Parker? Or a Wanda Maximoff thing? I kinda hate her character so i could rewrite her somehow i don't know.


	13. Galavan’s Gonna Kill Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle and Jerome go to a bar together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why so many Jerome stories have him smelling like cinnamon  
> This chapter is somewhat inspired by a show called Orphan Black season two.  
> I imagined the song they dance to Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex.

Due to the eventful day before Jerome slept until afternoon. After waking up enough to get out of bed and shower he stood in front of his bathroom mirror and ran gel threw his hair. He lightly touched the purple and pink bruise on his bare abdomen. 

“Damn Cherry,” he giggled. He was impressed how much pain Isabelle caused to his ribs. 

He wondered what kind of secret someone like her could keep. He supposed he didn’t technically know what kind of person she was. He knew she was from Russia, desperate to get away from something. Why else would she join the circus? Why else does anyone join the circus? 

After he got his hair situated he got dressed in dark jeans, a red shirt, topped with a bright green vest, topped with a black jacket and a colored striped scarf. Winter was getting closer so he decided to layer. 

He walked into Isabelle's room without knocking. For that, she gave him a punch in the ribs. She had just barely finished getting dressed as well. She simply wore black ripped jeans, a black shirt under a grey hoodie, under a black leather jacket. She had taken off the white bandages because the cut stopped bleeding and the patch was uncomfortable. 

“How’s the cheek sunshine?” he asked, all cheeky. 

“How are the ribs dipshit?” 

“Can’t complain,” he said simply. “You think it’ll scar?” he asked, reaching for the side of her face. She turned away and stood in front of the mirror next to her wardrobe. 

“Thought you were going to kill your father today.” Isabelle said, trying to decide what to do with her hair. 

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t still mad at me.” Jerome said, now standing behind her.

“I am, yes.”

“Oh come on Belle, my ribs hurt more than your face.” Jerome whined. 

“You're right, I shouldn't complain.” she said sarcastically. 

“I'm always right." he said and patted her on the head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I’ve got revenge to get so don’t miss me too much!” he called over his shoulder as he skipped out of the room. 

Isabelle would have murdered him for patting her like a dog if she hadn't frozen in place. Still staring at herself in the mirror, she saw her face grow a light pink. Jerome noticed this right before he left, and smiled at himself out the door. He was getting somewhere.

____________

Isabelle knew Jerome would come barging in to explain in extreme detail how he killed his old man. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction he got when he pissed her off, so she left her door open. Her conversation with Barbra got her thinking, maybe she should relearn some of her skills. Especially her weapon use. The sledge hammer she used to kill Mary Lloyd was the only weapon she’s used since Russia. 

Isabelle carved a circle with three rings in the middle to create a target on the wardrobe door. The strapped the knives to her thigh and tossed a knife around to get used to its weight. After she felt comfortable she planted her feet, cocked her arm back, and threw the knife at the target. It didn’t stick and she tried again, didn’t stick. 

After a while of knives bouncing off the closet’s wood she groaned at her failure and carelessly threw one in the wardrobe’s general direction. She rolled her shoulders back and prepared to keep trying, she had nothing better to do. She set up herself for another throw, but stopped at the sight of the knife she didn't even try with on the bullseye. She smiled to herself and realised she just needed to relax. Isabelle took a deep breath and threw another. She didn’t get another bullseye, but it stuck to the wall. 

Soon she was able to land most knives in the middle of the target. To make it more difficult she tested different distances and angels. She swung her arm back to throw but drastically missed at Jerome’s voice. “Guess what?” he yelled happily. 

Isabelle sighed and decided to humor him. “What J?” 

“I not only got to kill my old man, but got to mess with Gordon too!” 

“Gordon was there?” Isabelle asked and furrowed her eyebrows. The man had timing.

Jerome went jumped on Isabelle’s bed. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her down to lay on her back with him. “You should’ve seen it. First we found the apartment and waited there. Then when he came home we scarred the shit out of him and tied him to a chair. I explained why I was gonna kill him, how I was gonna frame our escape on him, that was Tabatha’s idea, and he told me all about how great my reign of terror will be.” 

Isabelle expected this, so she just let him have it. Clearly he was enjoying himself. 

“Then Gordon and his sidekick showed up wanting to talk to him. So I took his biggest kitchen knife and stabbed him in the left eye as deep as I could get it.” he stopped and ran his free hand through his thick hair. “Or maybe it was the right one. I don’t remember but it was great!” he finished and laughed. 

His laugh made Isabelle want to smile. He was right, there’s nothing more contagious than laughter, she remembered and laughed with him. 

“Look at that, my tater tot laughing.” Jerome said and laughed harder. “Oh and look what I found!” He pulled out a small flashlight with a red on button at the end and shined it in her eyes. 

“Ow!” Isabelle exclaimed and hit the light out of his hand. 

Isabelle realized how much of a five year old Jerome was. How everything was all fun in games for him. 

Jerome stopped laughing and took a deep breath in and out. He used the fingers on the arm wrapped around her waist to lightly trace a scar that ran along her bicep. Her skin began to warm. 

Feeling the temperature under his hand he looked to his side at her. “You're blushing, doll.” Jerome teased. 

“No I’m not.” Isabelle said defensively. 

“Are too.” Jerome said and leaned over. 

Isabelle’s hand shot up to cover his mouth. “What are you doing?” 

“I was gonna kiss you silly.” 

Her eyes got wide. “Why?” she asked, completely taken back. They were getting closer, but she’d still figured Jerome’s new behavior was just a new way to distract from his own miserable life. 

“Because I wanted to.” he said and smirked.

“Alright get off me.” Isabelle pushed Jerome off of her to sit up. She remembered what Barbra warned her about. She promised herself if they were going to kiss, Isabelle was gonna kiss Jerome. 

Jerome hugged his knees. “I’ll bet you wanted to too.”

“If I wanted to kiss you I wouldn’t have stopped you.” she reasoned.

“Or you just want to play hard to get.” he shrugged. 

“I’m not playing-” 

“Anyway,” Jerome cut her off to change the subject. “On our way back we passed a discrete looking bar so get some shoes on.” 

Isabelle had never had a drop of alcohol in her life so she knew Jerome may have to carry her back after two shots. But the thought of getting out of the penthouse was very appealing. She rolled off the bed and began to slip on a pair of red high tops. “You get Tabitha to accompany again?”

“Who said we’d have a chaperone?” Jerome asked, smirking. The bastard's always to be smirking. 

“We're going alone?” Isabelle asked, finished tying the first shoe’s lace.

“Yep!” 

Isabelle finished with the second shoe and stood to stare at him with a smile and an eyebrow raised. “Alone like date?”

“Well I wasn’t going to call it that but…” 

Isabelle scoffed, walking past him out of the bedroom.

“I didn’t call it that you did.” Jerome teased, catching up quickly. 

“I didn’t call it date Jerome I just… assumed that’s what you were calling it.” she explained. 

“Riiiight. Because if it was a date that would mean you liked me.” 

“Exactly” she smiled at him. 

______________________

The pair reached the mostly empty bar right before sundown. Trashy rock music played over speakers. They ordered several kinds of drinks to try. Isabelle picked up the first and examined it.

“You’re supposed to drink that you know?” Jerome asked, gulping down a shot.

Isabelle took a sip and grimaced at the burning feeling the alcohol left in her throat. “дерьмо (shit)” she coughed. 

“Have you ever drank before?” Jerome laughed hysterically, drawing attention. 

“No,” Isabelle admitted through coughs. 

Jerome continued to laugh. Isabelle noticed the eyes turning to them and hit Jerome’s side. “Shut up before someone calls cops!” she whisper-shouted. 

“You’re so boring Cherry.” Jerome scoffed and handed her a different drink. “Here, this one’s called a white russian.” he raised an eyebrow and smiled. 

Isabelle took the drink. She took a sip and nodded. It burned a lot less than the first. 

“Like that one?” Jerome asked. Isabelle nodded in response.

_____________

Gordon told Lee about the run in he and Bullock had with a certain ginger teen and a dark haired woman. She immediately told Harvey to rest and gave Jim a full body check up, seeing his bruised face. She worried like that. 

Jim sat at his desk while Harvey slept off the knockout gas in the locker room. 

An officer near him ignored the phone at his desk and let it ring. Jim was used to the sound of telephones ringing, but with everything going on he was a little less willing to tune it out. He groaned and rubbed his face. “Johnson! Pick up the phone!” 

The officer rolled his eyes and picked up the phone. “GCPD, what’s the problem?”

“The redhead and the curly haired chick from the news are here.”

_____________

“You are not ...stronger than me... you’re a girl!” Jerome exclaimed, his drunk words slurring. 

“Yes... I am.” Isabelle also slurred, finishing the last of their cock tales. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”

Jerome turned on his heel and sat at a nearby table. He put an elbow on the table, challenging for an arm wrestle, and tilted his head. “Prove it.” 

Jerome and his games. Isabelle sat across from him, put her elbow on the table, and took his hand. 

“Ready?” 

Isabelle nodded and smiled. 

Without warning Jerome pushed Isabelle's hand down. Isabelle pushed back before the back of her hand touched the table. “You cheater” Isabelle laughed through gritted teeth. Jerome chuckled through gritted teeth. 

“How ...the hell… are you… so… strong?” Jerome chuckled before his hand hit the table, meaning Isabelle had won despite Jerome’s false start. 

“Boys," she pointed at Jerome "such as yourself, say I cheat during training. I’ve had to prove myself plenty of times.” 

This was it. Now that she was drunk, Jerome was gonna pry everything he could out of Isabelle. “Training?”

“Spies must learn skills someplace.” she giggled. “Rematch?” she raised her arm. 

Jerome took her hand and again started immediately. “So you were a Russian spy?” 

“Sort of, I kind of just did whatever they told me.” 

Jerome was standing a chance this time. There hands still interlocked in the middle.

“You have a code name?”

“Echo… double C”

Both of their faces were turning red from the effort to win. Isabelle was about to win again when a slow song turned on. 

“Wait, wait” Jerome said and looked around, the girl did too. Their grip on each other’s hand became gentle holding. 

Jerome searched her eyes. She had told him all he wanted to know, and yet he was more confused. Jerome had found her painfully boring until now. But knowing she was more than she let on Jerome wanted to peel away more layers. He smiled at the thought of toying with her sex drive. If she had one. Finding what scarred her, even her favorite color now interested him.

Jerome let go of Isabelle’s hand and hopped off his chair. “May I have this dance, milady?” he asked in a posh accent, holding out his left hand for her to take. 

Isabelle chuckled. “You are very weird.” she said and took his hand. Jerome smiled.

Isabelle let him pull her along to a more open area. Her intoxicated state caused her to run into several tables and chairs along the way. 

The teens came to an open spot of the bar near a pool table and Jerome placed Isabelle’s right hand on his shoulder and put his on her waist. They swayed slowly. 

Isabelle didn’t know if it was the calming music or the buzz in her brain but something urged her to get closer to Jerome. So she laid her head against his shoulder. 

With their close proximity, Jerome enjoyed her scent of some sort of flower he couldn’t guess if he tried. 

He rested his head against hers. This caused Isabelle’s hands to get sweaty and stomach to flutter. Jerome smiled at her body's obvious signals until he gave his own, sweaty hands and a fluttering stomach. He hadn’t noticed feelings for her before, but that would explain his constant urges to touch and tease her. 

They both pulled their heads away from each other to make an intense eye contact. After a beat Jerome leaned in, as he did in Isabelle’s room, only to have her lean away. She remembered Barbra's warning. But looking at him now, looking at the moment, she wanted to kiss him too. 

‘Screw it’ the voice said for her. 

Isabelle leaned in and kept her promise to herself, she kissed him. His lips were soft, but slightly chapped. Jerome smirked against her lips. He kissed back and let go of her hand to wrap around the back of her neck to pull her face closer, making the kiss deeper. Isabelle’s now free hand ran through his hair. It got heated and their hands explored wherever they could reach. 

The blissful atmosphere shattered when a gun clicked behind Isabelle. “Isabelle Cherenova and Jerome Valeska you’re under arrest for- '', the middle aged cop was cut off by a swift punch in the jaw from the girl. She shock her hand at the pain that sprung in her knuckles. She hadn’t punched someone in forever. Jerome laughed when the cop fell to the floor. He heard the second one call for backup on his radio. He picked up a pool stick off the nearby table and hit him in the gut with it. 

Isabelle picked up the gun her cop dropped and pointed it at him as he held up his hands in surrender. “Should have brought more back up huh?” she smiled with a dangerous look in her eye. 

“Please…” he whimpered. “Don’t hurt me,” 

With her voice’s encouragement, Isabelle shot the officer. She tossed the gun on the floor carelessly and climbed on the bar counter. She reached the top shelf and took an unopened bottle of vodka. She opened it and took a swig. She shook her head at the burning.

The sound of police sirens drowned out the speaker’s music, and red and blue lights filled the dimly lit bar. Isabelle turned to Jerome, who tossed the pool stick. 

“Time to go buttercup!” he smiled and grabbed her free hand. Drunk and stupid, they raced for the back exit. Of course they had the place surrounded. “Hands up!” Gordon shouted. 

“Shit” Isabelle said. “Now what?”

“Keep your pants on sweet cheeks. I’ve got this under control.” Jerome soothed. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little flashlight he took from his father’s, that he had shined in her eyes. Isabelle smiled in recognition. The flashlight could look like a bomb detonator from Gordon’s distance, especially with the red button at the end to turn it on. 

“One more step Jim and I’ll blow this place sky high!” Jerome bluffed. 

“You bombed the place?” Gordon asked. 

“Sure did! But if you let us go we’ll reconsider.” Jerome reasoned and wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s waist casually.

Jim sighed frustrated. He was so close to ending all this. But the bar was underneath apartment buildings that could very well have innocent, frightened family in it. “Alright, alright.” he signaled for the other cops to lower their guns and raised his in surrender. “You win” 

“Thank you very much sir, pleasure doing business with you Mr Gordon.” Jerome said professionally, as if in a business meeting. 

As they walked away from the building Isabelle looked back and saw news reports and cameras unloading from vans. 

Jerome groaned. “There goes my buzz.” he whined. 

Isabelle smiled and held up the vodka she swiped from the bar. 

Jerome smirked and took it from her. “You sneaky minx.” 

“Galavan will kill us” Isabelle groaned. 

“Only if he finds out.” Jerome smiled and passed the alcohol. 

“I’m sure he watches News.” 

“Gordon won’t tell them anything or people will freak out. They'll say how he’s failing the city and whatnot.” 

“What you think he’ll tell them?” 

Jerome looked up at the sky with a look of deep thought. “Probably that it was a false alarm” he shrugged. 

Isabelle almost tripped over herself. Giggling it off, she was about to take a drink, but Jerome took the bottle from her. “Ey!” 

“I think you’ve had enough doll.” Jerome said and patted her head like a puppy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	14. You and Your Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Isabelle get into another fight, but it all turns out okay. Or better than okay.  
> Isabelle's voices get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by Shameless US season five. I think this is the last time I'll be using inspiration for this story. I just wanted to have something to outline the beginning since this is my first story I guess. I’m a little nervous to go off of nothing haha. I’ve got somewhat of a plan though.

The teens reached the penthouse. Somehow they made it to Jerome’s room undetected. 

Isabelle flopped on his bed on her stomach. “My head is spinning.” she mumbled into the sheets.

Jerome laid next to her on his back, playing with a piece of her hair. “Speaking of your head, what kinda stuff do your voices say?” Jerome asked. He figured she heard voices for a while. He noticed her twitches. 

“Nothing important. Tell me to kill people, tell me useless,” She mumbles into the sheets.

“I wish I had voices.” Jerome said wistfully.

Isabelle scoffed and looked at him. “No you don’t, it hurts.” 

“Aw pour baby.” Jerome cooed and twirled a piece of hair around his finger. 

Isabelle turned on her side to glare at him. 

Jerome giggled in return and noticed the cut on her cheek. “See how cute your cut looks?” Jerome ran his thumb over the scab. “I’m so glad you forgive me.” 

Isabelle scoffed and got off the bed. “I haven't, I just forgot I was mad at you.” she said and walked out of Jerome’s room to walk into hers. Jerome followed her. 

She was already tired of him. How can he go from taking her on a date to pissing her off so quickly? She stopped in her tracks in realization and turned to him angrily. “Was that what that was? A distraction so I forget i was angry?” Isabelle asked. 

Jerome pushed past her to get into her bedroom. “No worries, I like your room better anyway.” He sat on her bed and smirked at her. “It smells like you.” 

‘Sneaky bastard’ a voice spat. 

“Get out,” Isabelle demanded. 

“I wasn't trying to distract you,” Jerome defended. “I wanted to spend time with you.” he said innocently. 

Isabelle crossed her arms. “Why?” 

Jerome crossed his arms to match hers. “Because that’s what friends do.” 

“You hated me at the circus.” Isabelle was getting frustrated. 

Jerome liked seeing her pissed off. He compared her to a kitten. 

The boy looked at the ceiling as if in deep thought. “Well, at first it was to mess with your head. But then Galavan mentioned the turning project and I wanted to know about that. I knew you wouldn’t just tell me if i asked so i needed you to like me.” Jerome explained with a smile. 

Isabelle clenched her fists. The thought of being manipulated by the likes of Jerome Valeska made her blood boil. She saw herself smarter than that. 

Isabelle pulled the door shut and Jerome tilted his head in curiosity. He noticed her knives next to her foot, she could so easily take one and attack if he got close enough. He knew that’s what she was gonna try to do so. Jerome could tell from her just eye twitched, just like last night, except this time he was ready.

Jerome stood from the bed and walked towards her slowly. “You're likable when you’re not, you know, being a bitch.” he pointed to her. “You’re very fun drunk.”

Isabelle was seeing red. She hated Jerome, she knew what a bad person he was. And for some reason let him in anyway. She could have said no to going out with Jerome, could have punched him for every time he touched her, but she didn’t. Only for it to have meant nothing. 

Given into the voices violent instructions she quickly bent down and took a knife from the holster she had left on the floor and attempted to stick it in Jerome's stupidly handsome face. But as he expected this, he caught her by the wrist. 

“Ah… there it is.” he snickered, looking down at her with a dark satisfaction. “There’s the bitch.”

Isabelle leaned down with her other hand in an attempt to grab another blade but Jerome pushed her to the ground. He grabbed that wrist too and pinned them to the hardwood floor. 

Jerome laughed. “You and your knives,” he snickered. 

Isabelle lifted a leg to kick Jerome but he expected that too and pressed his body against hers. They had already established Isabelle was stronger than him, but she couldn't fight against Jerome’s whole body weight. 

He tutted her. “Cherry... drop the knives.”

“Get off of me” she snarled and struggled against him.

“Drop them,” he demanded. 

“No” she hissed. 

Jerome shook his head. “Did you get your stubbornness from spy training or were you born like this?” 

Jerome’s button pressing, especially now she was drunk, was only infuriating the girl more and she started thrashing around. In response Jerome tightened his grip on her wrists, causing her to wince. 

“Stop being so pissy and relax. Stop struggling, take a deep breath, and I’ll tell you a secret. ” 

Isabelle saw no way out of this. Jerome wasn’t letting go so she could either keep wasting her energy, or just do what Jerome said. She stopped struggling and after a deep breath, let the knife's drop to the floor above her head. 

Satisfied the girl had calmed down Jerome let go of her wrists and put them on either side of her head. Isabelle took one wrist in her hand and rubbed it as they turned red from blood beginning to circulate again. 

Jerome leaned beside her ear as if to whisper something, but pecked her lips quickly. 

Isabelle sucked in a breath in shock, her mouth hung open slightly. He giggled at her shocked state. “Got ya! Ha!” 

While he laughed, Isabelle processed the feeling. Her whole body warmed up and the butterflies returned. As much as she wanted to punch his smiling teeth, she wanted more. 

She reached up and pulled his lips to hers. Jerome hesitated a moment before kissing back and moved from his hands to his forearms for balance. 

Isabelle found there was something a bit different about the way he was kissing her, he seemed more desperate, passionate. This time, he wasn’t just trying to pull apart her mind. Jerome smiled against her mouth, now more excited than just interested for his last test for her. 

Isabelle stopped kissing to catch her breath and laid flat on the floor. But Jerome wasn’t done yet. He immediately went back in with his tongue. Isabelle did not object, she joined in. Taking turns exploring the other’s mouth. The alcohol flavor was still apparent in both of them.

Jerome snuck his hand under Isabelle's hoodie and shirt to feel her warm stomach raise and lower with her heavy breath. 

Taking the hint Isabelle sat up and helped him to remove her many layers. While she focused on her top half, Jerome unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. 

Isabelle was now half undressed and sitting with her hands behind her. Jerome took off his jacket and sat on his heels, deciding what to do next. Neither of them technically knew what they were doing, which made it all the more interesting. 

Something in Jerome told him her neck wasn’t getting the attention it deserved. So he pushed her to the ground again and attacked her neck with open mouth kisses, occasionally sucking and biting. 

Isabelle was getting bored. She smirked at an idea and ran a hand through his red hair, then down his neck, over his pail shoulder, his chest, eventually reaching the front of his jeans. 

Jerome groaned at the contact and wrapped a hand around her throat, applying a slight pressure. “Don’t tease.” 

Isabelle didn't like how much power he had over her. The voices demanded she change that. Isabelle happily obliged. 

With his hand still on her neck Jerome went in for a kiss. Isabelle grabbed the hand at her neck and dug her fingernails into his wrist. 

“Ow!” he growled and tore his arm away from her. 

Now that he was no longer imprisoning her between his arms Isabelle flipped them. She sat on his lap. It was her turn to apply a light pressure to his neck. She leaned close and her volume lowered slightly above a whisper. “My turn” she purred. 

This evidently took Jerome off guard. His eyes were wide and he didn’t know what to do. Push her off? Or lay back and see what happens?

Jerome decided this was turning him on way too much to make it stop. This was exciting, he was excited. Isabelle was coming out of her shell.

He chuckled though the pressure on his throat was becoming a bit much. Then he remembered the knife Isabelle previously had in her hand that had to be near his head and choked out a laugh. 

Jerome reached behind him and brought the knife to her neck. Reflex kicked in before the sharp metal could come in contact with her skin and Isabelle jumped off Jerome. She cursed herself for forgetting that was there because now Jerome had the upper hand. 

Jerome rubbed his neck and slowly stood up, taking heavy, open mouthed breaths. Despite having just been choked to death, every exhale came out as a laugh. It was Jerome after all. 

Isabelle walked backward toward her closet door, which still had multiple knives sticking out of the target she carved. Jerome had caught his breath and was standing normally when Isabelle yanked a knife from the door. They stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Now it was even. Almost.

‘You’re undressed, Jerome’s still fully clothed. That’s not fair.’ the voice pointed out in a whisper.

“Take that off.” Isabelle gestured to his shirt with her armed hand. 

Jerome tilted his playfully. 

“It's not fair.” 

The ginger gave his signature laugh. This was turning out better than he’d expected. “You wanna play, Kitten?” he asked, taking off his shirt. “Then let’s play.”

______________

The two eventually ended up on Isabelle’s bed and fell asleep. Jerome was apparently a cuddler. He laid passed out behind her with his arm around her waist. 

It was 9:43pm when Jerome’s eyes fluttered open. He had about an hour until he had to leave for the Gotham Children's Hospital Gala. 

He rolled back over to the alarm clock to confirm that, then back over to Isabelle’s side and kissed the back of her neck. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” he whispered. 

“My head’s still pounding.” Isabelle moaned. 

“That’s called a hangover, gorgeous. You drank a lot for your first time.” Jerome chuckled. 

“Where are you going?” she asked and sat up.

“Gonna go raise hell at the charity ball.” he said, getting dressed. 

“Oh yeah” Isabelle remembered and sat up to stretched. “If you don’t come back soon I’ll lose my mind.” she said and got out of bed to put on her robe she had left on the floor. 

Jerome looked over at the girl laying on his bed. “Promise?” he smirked. 

Sitting back on the bed, Isabelle opened her mouth to reply but winced at the sudden intrusion of a high pitched squeak of a voice, informing her the curtains were a lovely shade of blue. And another, sounding similar to an instructor of the GRU, counting in Russian. 

“Shut up” she mumbled under her breath and rubbed her temples.

“What are they saying?” Jerome asked, now dressed and ready to go.

Isabelle assumed he was referring to the cursed whispers only she could hear. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s too many. It’s getting worse everyday.” 

“Oh come on, just listen.” Jerome walked over to the bed and sat with his legs crossed, facing the girl. I wanna know what it’s like.” 

Isabelle sighed and crossed her legs to match Jerome. She closed her eyes and for the first time since they started, actually tried to hear to what the voices in her head had to say. 

‘Are you proud of yourself?...’ said one voice. Isabelle repeated the question out loud for Jerome to hear. 

‘People...people everywhere watching, listening…’ whispered another. 

‘Those curtains... so lovely... So blue...’ 

After listening to the girl repeat the pointless rambles of her inner demons for a good minute or so Jerome got a little bored. 

“Yep that settles it. You’re crazy.” he said, interrupting her. 

“Gee, thanks, J” Isabelle said with a sarcastic smile. 

“That’s a compliment! All the best people are crazy.” he winked. 

Isabelle smiled as they held a comfortable eye contact. Jerome’s green, blue eyes made it easy to believe him. 

“Thank you” 

Jerome tilted his head in confusion. “For what?”

“For making me happy.” she looked at her hands in her lap. “I’ve never been very happy.” she whispered. 

A beat went by for Jerome to think. He didn’t exactly know what to call his feelings for her, and he didn't know what love felt like. But she made him happy. He was okay with calling that love. 

“I have a secret for you.”

Isabelle looked at him skeptically, remembering last night's “secret”. Now that he knew she would gladly kiss him, she was nervous of what he would do to her next. 

Jerome chuckled at her reluctantly. “Come here.”

Jerome leaned next to her ear and placed his hands on her thighs for balance. He pecked her nose. “I love you” he whispered. 

Isabelle just stared at him. She wasn’t sure if this feeling was love. They had a weird relationship, she knew that for sure. But it was fun. She liked spending time with him and Isabelle felt comfortable around Jerome. 

She leaned in and kissed him slowly, then pulled back. “I love you too.” she smiled. 

Jerome jumped off the bed, smiling like an idiot. “Have Galavan get you a TV, you’re gonna wanna see this!” he called skipping out of the room. 

Isabelle took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair until she hit a knot. She sighed, imagining her hair was a mess she lied on her back smiling, replaying the last few hours in her head.

She heard a double knock before her door creaked open. 

“Forget something?” Isabelle smiled. 

“It’s me” Barbra chuckled. “I told you you two would get together.” she teased and sat on Isabelle’s bed with her back to her. “Would you mind?”

Barbra was in a full face of makeup, a feathery headpiece, and pink dress sort of thing. It was covered in gems and had a fluffy trim at the bottom. Isabelle sat up and tied the pink ribbon into a bow. 

Barbra stood from the bed and twirled. “How do i look? Beautiful?” 

Isabelle smiled. “As a цветок (flower).” 

Barbra smiled. “I assume that's good. Wish me luck!” she said.

“Good luck Babs”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	15. I Said Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome gets killed and Isabelle is not happy…  
> Isabelle becomes the leader of Jerome's cult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anyone asked but most of the time i write while watching cartoons.

For the past hour Isabelle and Aaron have been sitting around a TV, watching the news broadcast the Gotham charity benefit. Jerome was being Jerome, never leaving the audience bored. His close up magic made Isabelle smile, his knife work on the deputy mayor made her giddy, she knew he was thinking of her the way he smiled at the table lined with knives. 

Jerome now had the young Bruce Wayne in his grasp with a knife to his neck, while he had many guns aimed at him. Isabelle wasn’t worried in the slightest. Jerome always had control over every situation he was in, he always had a clever way out. 

“I said enough” Galavan’s voice echoed. The crowd went silent and Jerome slowly releases Bruce and turns to face him with a confused expression. In a quick motion Galavan pulls out a tiny dagger and plunges it into Jerome’s neck. There were gasps from every person in the room. Bruce ran into Alfreds arms. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to act brave and heroic, but Jerome and Barbra would last minute escape through the magic box thing. At first Isabelle thought maybe this was a change in plan to make it more convincing, but the genuine shock and confusion of Jerome said otherwise. Galavan just stabbed Jerome in the neck. He was gonna die. Shit he's dying.

Isabelle sat staring at the screen and watched helplessly as Galavan’s mouth moved, his words to quiet for the news cameras to pick up. He began to lay Jerome on his back. Theo continued to mumble words only Jerome could hear as blood spilled from Jerome’s mouth. A smile grew on Jerome’s face. He mumbled something back. And then he died with that smile still plastered on his face. Of course Jerome Valeska died smiling. Galavan sighed and slowly removed the dagger.

Isabella snapped out of the sort of trance shock. She stood from the leather couch and threw the small coffee table in front of her at the TV with a furious scream. The screen smashed at the impact and burst with electricity. She breathed heavily and clenched her fists tight enough for her nails to draw blood from the palm of her hand. 

"Hey, I was watching that!" Aaron complained and stood from the coach. 

Isabelle turned to him towering over her. He didn't intimate her, she was too angry. "So?" she said though grinding teeth and pulled out a knife. 

"You broke the TV-" Isabelle swiftly slashed his throat. He fell to the ground gagging on his own blood. 

_____________

She couldn't hear the screams of Galavan’s men as they died by the hands of her blade, or the bullets they shot her, missing every time. But it felt good to see their blood coat the floor and walls in bright red. She kept her promise, Jerome wouldn't be back, and she was losing her mind. 

She wasn’t thinking straight. Or at all, she couldn't tell. She just repeated whatever the voice said, mixing up the whispers with her own thoughts. The painful argument she had with herself caused her to lean against the wall with her free hand and hold her head with the one holding the bloody knife, getting blood on her face. “I'm going to kill Galavan. No I can't or I'll get caught and thrown back into Arkham. No he deserves to DIE!” She argued with herself. 

A sudden sharp pain in her shoulder sent a wave of pain through her left arm. She yelped in pain and fell to her knees. Isabelle heard a gunshot from behind her and the man fell face first.

_____________

Barbra arrived at the penthouse with one of Galavan's men running out the door. He was holding his eye as blood dripped through his closed fingers. He fell in front of Barbra screaming. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Barbra asked, stepping over him. 

“She cut out my eye! The crazy bitch took my eye!” he screamed. 

Isabelle. Barbra had forgotten how close her and Jerome had gotten. She didn’t even think about how his untimely death would affect her. "Shit" she said to herself, looking back to the tall building.

She walked through the hallways, following the sound of screams and gunshots searching for her friend. There were bodies laying in blood every few steps. Curtains were torn from windows, and glass was scattered from either the tall windows or expensive pottery. 

Barbra eventually rounded a corner to see a big man pointing a gun at Isabelle, who was leaning against the wall and holding her head mumbling to herself. Barbra picked up a gun from a body on the ground. He had already shot Isabelle in the shoulder before she shot the man. He fell to the floor and Barbra ran to Isabelle’s side. 

“Isabelle?” she asked softly. 

Isabelle turned swiftly and pointed the knife at her. “Babs…” she whispered and lowered the knife to her side. 

“Isabelle what the hell are you doing.” she asked and got to Isabelle’s side on her knees. 

She tries to stand, but crumbles at the pain of her arm and groans, grasping her shoulder. 

“Oh my god Belle, you're hurt! Come on, you need to get stitched up.”

Barbra reached for her to help her to her feet but Isabelle quickly raised the knife, not noticing or caring about the blood spilling from her shoulder. “No. The only thing I need is Theodore Galavan dead.” she growled. She shakily stood up on her own and hobbled for the elevator.

To see Isabelle in such a destructive state made Barbra nervous. She was afraid she was gonna get herself hurt.

______________

Barbra changed out of her pink show outfit and put on a silk robe. She stood in front of a TV, watching a female reporter. 

Galavan entered the room from behind her. “Am I a hero?”

Barbra hummed. “Apparently” said as Galavan's face appeared on the screen. “I think tonight,” he said, “the people of Gotham have said, enough. The reign of tyranny is over.” 

“Now the real fun begins.” Theo smiles. “Where's Isabelle? I can never seem to find that girl.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever see her again.” 

“Oh.” Theo said with a casually, with only sympathy. “I was hoping to have a little chat with her about what she did to my men.” 

Barbra realized what she said came off as if the young girl had killed herself. It made sense, the only thing she seemed to have to live for was now dead. She supposed it was better that way. She may be going completely insane but at least she won't have to watch her back. “Poor children. They had so much to live for.” Barbra with the same tone as Galavan, casually with little to no sympathy. 

“Yes, very sad. Such compelling characters, but limited. No, Jerome was never gonna last long.” said over Jerome’s on screen chuckles. “And Isabelle, so lost. She was bound to follow. Raised from a very young age to be a follower. ” 

The thought made Barbra sad. She tried to warn Isabelle not to let Jerome drag her down with him. She didn’t know much about her, but she liked Isabelle. 

Barbra turned to face Galavan. “I don't know about that. Jerome had a way about him. And Isabelle, with the chance, could have become such a strong, independent woman... like me.” she said seductively. She reached her hands to hold the sides of his head. “Oh, poor baby, did you get a bump?” 

Galavan looked down at her, with his mouth slightly open and Barbra kissed his temple. Little did she know Tabitha watched jealous from the hallway. 

She felt hurt by Barbra, and betrayed by her brother. He knew she liked Barbra. He saw how close they had become. And yet Barbra kissed him, and he let it happen. 

___________

Isabelle stumbled through the streets of Gotham feeling light headed, probably about to pass out from blood loss. Her accelerated heart rate her rage brought didn't help that. This would be her second time passing out in one night, except this time she’d have no Jerome to carry her to bed, and no bed to be carried to. 

She had no idea where she was going, or why she was running. She didn’t know what to do now that Jerome was gone. She had no one and nowhere to go. Having a normal life like she planned after leaving the circus was a ridiculous thought, her only option was to live alone and out of sight. But she didn’t know how to do that. So she ran. That’s what she did when she was scared and alone. Just like back in Russia. Now in Gotham. 

Eventually her body couldn't take it anymore and she fell. She curled herself into a ball and sobbed, feeling less angry now and more helpless and sad. She was exhausted from her killing spree and her arm ached, from her shoulder, stretching to her collarbone. It felt good, or better than the crushing feeling in her heart. This gave her an idea. 

Isabelle brought her knife to her left wrist and carved a horizontal line into her skin. She didn't fall unconscious until after two more cuts, making the shape of the letter J in her arm. 

_______________

The streets were dark. Doors were locked, though it was useless. Kicking them down or shooting the lock was all too common. So as dead bodies dropping left and right at the hands of psychos with crazy laughs, people barricaded and prayed. Many noticed how they resembled the ginger boy from the news they called Jerome Valeska. He was proclaimed dead, and yet he was everywhere.

A group of these copycats came across Isabelle’s body and noticed her little, unsteady breaths and prepared to do to her what they had been doing all night. But one recognized her.

“Wait, wait, wait.” he said and held up his hands. He knelled down next to her to get a better look. He moved the few strands of hair covering her face. “This is Isabelle Cherenova. She worked with the maniax!” 

“So?” asked one holding a bat he hammered nails into. 

“So, Jerome knew her! we can’t just kill her, they worked together!” 

_______________

Isabelle woke to the smell of bleach and cold hands on her shoulder. A strange man she had never seen before a bandage on her shoulder to reveal irritated stitches. 

“Oh good, you’re awake!” he said and giggled. The giggle sounded familiar to Isabelle. “I was starting to think we lost ya and yet,” 

“Where am I?” Isabelle asked looking around. She was laying on an old, stained mattress. The room was cement, with only a lamp to light up the room. 

“In Jeri’s nightclub,” he said and put on a new bandage. 

Isabelle now noticed she was stripped to a bra and underwear. “Oh don’t worry,” he said. “I was a doctor, nothing I haven't seen before.” he laughed. He reminded her of someone, playful and excited.

He reached out for her wrist and pulled toward him to remove that bandage too. It revealed stitches in the shape of the letter J. That struck memory in Isabelle, it was all coming back. Jerome’s death, her murderous rampage through Galavan's penthouse, running through alleyways and backstreets, Jerome. That’s who this man reminded her of. Tears filled her eyes. 

The man looked up slightly nodded slightly. “I know, I know. We were all deeply affected by the prophet's passing.” 

The prophet? What the hell is prophet? This guy was starting to freak Isabelle out. She tore her arm away from him. “Where are my clothes.” she demanded and stood from the stained mattress. 

“Oh, I had them washed for you.” he stood as well. 

“You washed my clothes?”

“Yes of course! We’d do anything for you Isabelle.” 

Isabelle looked at him and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Who’s we?”

He smiled. “I’d be happy to introduce you, if you let me finish bandaging your wrist.”

Isabelle scowled. But she really wanted to know what was going on, so she held out her arm. He took it and began to wrap the white fabric. “You have a lot more scars than this one, get into fights with your siblings?” he joked and laughed. 

“Sure,” she mumbled. 

After he finished he left and returned with her clothes. She dressed and looked at the man more closely. Dark hair and eyes. He was older, but no more than thirties. Taller than her, and jittery. 

“Shall we?” the man gestured to the door.

Without replying she left the small room. 

As they walked he told her his name was Dwight. Apparently she’d been out for a few days and almost died of blood loose, but had plenty of volunteers for donors. He then went on about this sort of group they formed full of Jerome admirers, saying how she was the Jesus to Jerome’s God. 

“And I was like, ‘We can’t kill her, she's one of us!’ You know cause you knew Jerome personally. And Bob was like, ‘I don’t care, I want to kill the pretty lady!’ and he was about to beat you with his bat. But I grabbed the knife from your hand and stabbed him!” he said like a child telling their mother about his soccer game. 

Isabelle was barely listening. 

“Speaking of which, here!” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the knife. 

It brought back more memories of Jerome. “You keep it.” she said and shoved her hands into her pockets. 

Dwight smiled wide and with an exited giggle put it back in his pocket. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The two came into a large room full of people, most covered in blood, all laughing like maniacs. 

“Everyone, Isabelle has awakened!” Dwight shouted over the group. 

They all turned to face them. As soon as they saw Isabelle they went wild, cheering, clapping, screaming. 

Isabelle looked around the room at the psychos. “What the hell?”

Dwight clapped happily and giggled. "They've been so exited to meet you."

Isabelle continued to stare with wide eyes. "All these people admire Jerome?"

"More like worship!"

Isabelle turn to looked at Dwight. "And I'm like, his number two?"

Dwight nodded excitedly. "With Jerome gone, you're the leader. Just tell them- tell us what to do and well do it."

Isabelle looked back to the noisy crowed and smiled just like Jerome would. "This could be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is really messy and barely makes sense but I guess that’s a good thing. If I had a nickel for the amount of times I’ve used the word “knife” for this story I’d be able to retire as soon as I graduate. Don't worry this is probably the last time you’ll hear it for a while.  
> I was thinking about making the second part of the story into a second book but then i realized not a lot if any would go read it. The kudos and bookmarks isn't why I'm writing this but it still feels good to know people like it you know?


	16. GCPD ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle helps Bruce find his parents murderer, leading to her capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle is taking the place of the character Jerry, but it's still Jerry's club.

Weeks had passed and her voices had become somewhat of a friend then a burden. The cult’s enthusiasm for fun and chaos was rubbing off of Isabelle. Attempting to ignore the hole in her heart, she spent most nights killing whoever she could find, getting into fights, gaining back the skills her highly trained body had long forgotten with a smile and a few tagalongs. The fact she often barely made it out alive, made it that much more fun. Usually stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“What kind of name is Cupcake, huh?” Isabelle laughed. 

The huge man smirked at her. “How about you and your posse run along little lady, I’ll let you live.” 

Isabelle looked down at her feet and smiled. “What did you call me?” she asked, her accent thick and threatening.

“I said go home princess.” he said louder, putting emphasis go home. 

‘Show him who’s the princess...’ the voice commanded. Isabelle didn’t hesitate to punch him in the jaw, which actually really hurt her hand, but caused him to stumble. The few cult members that accompanied her, plus Cupcake’s gang went wild. Isabelle’s members urging her to kick Cupcake’s ass, and Cupcake's to kick hers.

“All right, you wanna fight? You got it.” He swung a punch, but the girl dodged. He was strong, but slow. It didn’t take her long to tire him out.

She felt good doing things other than selling tickets or whatever a rich tool in a suit told her. 

“Who the hell are you?” Cupcake asked, catching his breath. 

She looked up at the ceiling in thought, then down at the man panting on the ground. “Ecco” 

“Well Ecco, you’ve got some game.” he said and got to his feet. He approached Isabelle and her members readied their weapons to protect her if needed. They tensed when he held out his hand for her to shake. 

________________

That night, a few members had planned to play live music for everyone. It took almost hours for the band to confront Isabelle about their sick lead vocalist. Knowing her outbursts had only gotten more likely since Jerome’s death, they fought over who had to break the news. To their shock and relief she offered to fill the spot herself. She’d never sang before, but there’s a first time for everything. 

Isabella had painted her face, like many of her loyal followers had done. Dark red lipstick and jester like eye makeup. A red triangle on the right eyelid and under her left eye, a black triangle on the left eyelid and under her right eye. She wore a black and red outfit to match.

She began to sing while the screen behind her showed newscasts from her time in the Maniax. She noticed the Wayne boy enter the club full of colorful people dancing and cheering over the loud rock music. Isabelle remembered him from the news cast the night her beloved ginger was murdered. His name echoed through her head in various tones of voices, most she had never heard before. 

Extremely curious to see why he’d be here of all places, of course the voice loved the idea. She did a stage dive and let the crowd carry her over to him. “Ha! Hello, Bruce. What are you doing here?” she smirked.

Bruce recognized her too, from the news during the Maniax rain of terror. “I’m looking for Ecco,” he replied. 

Isabelle tilted her head in curiosity. Where could he have heard that name? “Are you now?” she paused, staring at him. “You follow” 

She led him through the crowd of people. Into a hallway full of people drinking, giggling, and some other things. 

“How did you find me?” Isabelle asked, glancing over her shoulder at Bruce on her tail. 

“Cupcake” Bruce paused. “How do you know Cupcake?” 

Isabelle chuckled. “I picked fight with him... he lost.” said and walked up a set of stares into a room. She turned and noticed he stopped in the doorway. “Come” she urged him. Bruce looked back at the man guarding the door. Bruce walked in and the man closed it behind him. 

“Iced tea? Soda?” she offered. 

“No, thank you” he replied. “Are you Ecco?” 

She chuckled. “Some people call me this, yes.” she said, sitting down in a chair in front of a makeup mirror lined with lights. She stared at him, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t. “What? What do you want?” she asked impatiently. 

“Oh. I'm looking for Matches Malone.” he confessed. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“He killed my parents,” he said. 

Isabelle shifted in her seat. “What will do when you find him?” 

“Ask him some questions,” he paused. “Kill him,” 

Ecco laughed. “Okay sorry. I’m sorry. Killing people is not, you know, that easy. But maybe you kill before. Have you killed people before, Bruce?” 

“No,” he replied. “But no one killed my parents before.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Matches has killed many people.” 

Bruce said nothing. 

“Men, women, children. He’s a professional.” she continued, turning in her chair to face the mirror. 

“Do you know where he is?” he asked. 

“I do actually. This cult of mine is full of murderers and psychopaths... people talk. You going give me good reason to tell you where he is?” she asked, adding another coat of lipstick. 

“Justice” he replied simply.  


She scoffed and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Please.” 

“Money” he offered. 

”Net (no), I don't care about money.” she said going back to her makeup. This was fun. “Try something else.” 

Bruce looked at his pocket and pulled out the gun. “I have a gun,” he threatened. 

She turned to look at him, “That is good reason.” 

“Please just, tell me where he is.” 

“Come on,” Ecco said sounding disappointed “you're not even pointing it at me!” she grabbed his wrist and forced the gun to her forehead. 

He put it down and stared at his feet. 

“What is your problem?” asked Isabella laughing. 

“I was told it was unwise to point a gun at someone unless you're ready to shoot them. I’m not” he replied.

Isabella gave him a look. ”You’re a strange kid.” she smiled, turning back to the mirror. She watched turn around to leave in the reflection. 

He turned to her. “Thank you Ecco. It’s been… interesting talking to you.” he turned to leave again. 

‘Who are you to stop the kid from revenge?’ the voice scolded. Isabelle looked back to herself as he approached the door. “Alright fine.” she mumbled to herself. "Matches lives in big building on Grand Street, between nine and ten.” she called after Bruce. “Apartment 9B.” 

He turned around and walked a bit closer to her. “Thank you” 

Isabelle lost her sharp dimenor and looked at the ground in memory. “I know what it’s like to crave revenge. Who am I to stop you from having yours?” she finished with returning eye contact. 

Bruce was unaware of her and Jerome’s relationship so he had no clue what she was talking about, but smiled anyway and walked out of the room. 

Isabelle felt a slight sting in her temple. ‘Get yourself together, he’s dead and there's nothing you can do about it!’ It was odd, the voices haven’t spoke to her in weeks, much less cause her pain. 

She debated whether or not to put her hair up to keep the curls out of her eyes. 'You should put it up.' a male voice suggested. However she ignored it and left it to fall over her shoulders loosely. When Isabelle walked back on stage, she noticed Bruce and Gordon seemed to be arguing in the back of the room. Gordon grabbed onto Bruce’s shoulder, like he was trying to keep him from going somewhere. She liked Bruce, but not so much Gordon. So she decided to help the boy out a little. 

Isabelle picked up a spotlight “GCPD ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!” The music played over the speakers. 

Bruce and Gordon looked at her and looked back at Bruce. “Is that Cherenova?” he asked, trying to shout over the music. His grip on Bruce was ripped away by members of the crowd. They picked him up and started passing him through the crowd. 

Eventually Jim managed to tear himself from their grips. Next thing Isabella knew she was in handcuffs and thrown into a police car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Jeremiah will be introduced soon so stay tuned!


	17. Shut up Jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim inteigates Isabelle to find Bruce.  
> Isabelle gets sent back to Arkham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda hate the way i’ve been putting together paragraphs and spacing them but we’re now seventeen chapters in... i think it’s a little late.

“I don’t appreciate that little stunt you and your little Jerome fanclub pulled so I’m only gonna ask once, where is Bruce?” 

Isabelle narrowed her eyebrows. “I wouldn't call it a Jerome fanclub.” she said, putting emphasis on ‘Jerome fanclub’. 

“Then what would you call it?” Jim asked and narrowed his eyes. 

She looked up at the ceiling and pondered. “A cult of chaos.” She said with a smile. 

Jim sighed. “Isabelle, I can see you miss Jerome, but he’s dead. You need to let go, you’re obsessed.” 

This made her laugh. “No, I’m not. In fact I haven't thought about him in weeks.” she said with pride lining circles on the table's cold metal with her finger. 

“Oh yeah? Then I have to assume that doesn’t stand for Jerome.” Jim accused, pointing to her the J on her wrist. 

“This don't mean anything, just result of a little temper tantrum.” she narrowed her eyes to match his. “So is this one,” she leaned forward slightly so her hands could reach the neckline of her shirt. She pulled it to the side to show Jim the pink, still healing bullet wound scarred pink skin near her shoulder the bullet wound Dwight took care of left. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” she smiled darkly and sat normally. “Gotham is dangerous place for someone who doesn't buy things with money.” 

Jim noticed her change in attitude, she was more giggly and light. He supposed being around those kooky crazies were taking their toll. “This isn't you. You're crazy but you're not bat shit crazy.”

“What is it with you and Bruce?” Isabelle smirked. “I think the position of father figure has already been filled by that British chap I saw on the telly the night Jerome died.” she finished in a terrible accent. She didn’t know anything about Alfred, only heard his voice over the news telling Bruce to star calm. 

“Where is Bruce Wayne?” he asked again with more force. 

“You are very rude.”

“This is gonna go a lot better for you, if you don’t make me angry.” 

Isabelle smiled and chuckled lightly at the fire growing in the man's eyes, he was tired of small talk. 

“You’re trying to make me angry.” Gordon leaned forward. “Do you want me to hurt you?” 

“Could you? I have nowhere else to be.” she mocked and lifted her cuffed hands.

“No,” Jim admitted.

Isabelle dropped her hands and pouted in disappointment. 

“Tell me where you sent Bruce Wayne now.” Jim demanded. 

Isabelle licked her lips and smiled. “Alright fine” she laughed. She was growing bored of him anyway. “You know the big building between nine and ten?” 

“Ninth and tenth street? Yes what about it?” he asked impatiently.

“Your Bruce went to avenge mama and papa.” she smiled with a dark look in her eye. 

Jim’s eyes went wide and bolted out of the room without a word. 

“I didn't tell you which apartment!” Isabelle called after him. When he didn’t come back she sighed and shook her bound hands. 

“I told you should’ve worn your hair up,” said a voice. One Isabelle thought she’d never hear again. It wasn't like her usual voices, they were little whispers. This seemed to be in the room with her, but that was impossible. She looked up to see Jerome sitting in Jim’s chair. “I see your cheek healed without a scar. Lucky you.” 

Isabelle just stared at him, shocked and confused to see the supposed to be dead boy in front of her. She felt nauseous and unsure what to do. 

“Remember? After Bruce left you sat in front of the mirror, thinking about what to do with that pretty hair of yours, and I said put it up in case you run into trouble. But you didn’t listen.” 

“How would putting my hair up get me out of trouble?” she whispered to her hallucination and looked at the table in front of her. 

“Cause then you’d have a hair pin to pick the cuffs with.”

“I never ran into trouble before.”

“You’ve never helped little boys escape the police before either.” 

“I liked you better when I could only hear you.” 

“You don't miss seeing me?”

“I miss being able to punch you.” Isabelle snapped. 

“You couldn’t do that if I was here. Cause ya know... you’re chained to a table. Wouldn't be a problem if you wore your hair up. I'm always right remember?”

“Shut up Jerome.” 

“Make me Isabelle” he retorted with a smug smile. 

“I said11 shut up” 

“I said make me”

She sprung out of her seat and lunged toward Jerome, but got caught by the short length of the chains. Not letting that stop her she attempts to reach him with her leg. 

Jerome got up and walked to the back of the room to get further from her reach and leaned against the wall crossing his arms laughing hysterically. “It must suck to be short.” he mocked.

“Screw you, I'm tall for a girl.” she snapped.

Hearing the rattling of her chains an officer entered the room. Isabelle had heard of him before, Harvey Bullock. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused by her odd position. 

Isabelle looked at the Jerome hallucination then back at the officer. 

“He can’t see me silly. You’re crazy, remember?” Jerome snickered. 

“Nothing officer, nothing at all. Would you mind getting me a glass of water? The club’s sinks aren't exactly what you call... clean.” Isabelle said, standing back on both feet.

“Where’s Jim” Harvey asked, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Not sure,” she said and sat back in her seat. “A glass of water may refresh my brain.”

Bullock scoffed and left the room.

Isabelle frowned. “I’m thirstyyyyyyy” she whined. 

“Yeah, the lady’s thirstyyyyyyyyyyy” Jerome mimicked.

Isabelle groaned and slammed her head on the cold, metal table. 

The thought of seeing Jerome again sounded like the best thing to happen to her, but just added to the long list of things to make her angry. Knowing he wasn't real was infuriating. The fact Galavan is alive and enjoying life made her blood boil. 

“Stop that or you’ll get a bruise.” Jerome scolded. 

After having such a good time with Jerome right before he died made her forget what an annoying little bastard he could be. Having no choice in seeing him or not wasn’t going to make being sent back to Arkham any easier. 

________________

She sat in the cold interrogation room, dehydrated and her forehead was now sore. Again, she didn’t listen to Jerome. 

Jim eventually came back in a terrible mood to fill out paperwork to send Isabelle back to Arkham. 

When he finished he unchanged her from the table and cuffed her hands behind her back. Isabelle giggled at the rough way he was handling her. “What’s your problem? Not make it in time?” 

“Shut up” he shoved her out of the room. 

The ride to Arkham was shorter than the first time. Or it felt that way. The Jerome figure had stayed behind in the interrogation room, leaving Isabelle completely alone. Thanked god, she couldn’t take anymore of him. 

She remembered Jim’s mention of the scared J on her wrist. She hadn’t noticed it since she did it and wished she hadn’t. It was there because of Jerome. Seeing Jerome again was a tease. He had scared her and she hated him for it, and if he was still alive she might’ve killed him herself. She then realized it wouldn’t make her feel any better, watching people die didn’t make her feel better anymore. It started to lose it’s sweet release days ago. It wasn’t fun if it wasn’t personal. Greenwood was personal, Galavan’s men were personal, Aaron was personal.

Arkham guards, with their familiar blank stares, threw her into her old cell. It looked exactly the same. Same bed, same empty floor, same small window above her bed. It’s small shape only allowed a small amount of moonlight to bleed in. 

Isabelle fell on the bed with a huff and held herself. She rubbed up and down on her arms to warm herself. She wondered how cold this place could get in the winter. Seeing as they didn’t give her a blanket of any kind, she assumed pretty damn cold. 

_______________

“How are you feeling today Isabelle?” the therapist said from across her desk. She was middle aged, had black hair pinned back in a tight bun, and a scowl that seemed permanent. The thought of Isabelle opening up to anyone, especially someone like Dr Colic was hilarious. Jerome coming back from the dead was more likely than Isabelle expressing her feelings to this woman. 

Isabelle didn’t respond, and looked everywhere but the doctor's eyes. 

“Why don't we start by digging into your past, it may explain your current behaviors.” Colic said, prepared a pen and notepad. 

“What was your childhood like?”

No response.

“Are your parents alive?” 

Again, nothing from the teen. 

“Isabelle, this will be a lot easier if you give me something. 

Isabelle finally looked up to meet Colic’s cold eyes. 

The doctor smiled slightly and leaned toward the girl in front of her. “If you cooperate, you may even get out of here.” 

Isabelle stared and her expression softened.

“That’s what you want, isn't it?” Dr Colic asked.

Isabelle nodded slowly. 

“I thought so. Now tell me about your childhood, as far back as you can remember.”

When Isabelle finished, Dr Colic had multiple pages of notes regarding Isabelle. The teen attempted to glance over at then but the doctor flipped them over to prevent the girl from seeing the data she’d been taking. 

“Well, despite what Gordon’s reports say, I don’t think you have schizophrenia.”

“I don’t?” 

“No” Said Colic, crossing her arms. 

“Then why do I hear voices?” she challenged. 

“Your traumatic past could have something to do with it.” Colic offered.

Flashes of memory painted the back of Isabelle’s mind. “Why does it hurt?”

“Perhaps your body is attempting to distract you from the voice. Like how the body distracts from irritation with the pain of itching.”

“I hurt myself to try and ignore the voice?” Isabelle raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You mentioned you’ve made the voices a sort of companion. When you embraced them didn't the pain stop?”

Isabelle hadn't even noticed. “Yes i suppose...”

“I can’t get rid of the voice of Isabelle that’s up to you, but I can help you get rid of Jerome. If you cooperate.”

Isabelle glanced up at Jerome, who had made himself comfortable sitting on the desk with his legs over the side. He smiled at her and wiggled his fingers as a wave because he was clutching the side of the desk. His smile made her heart ache.

“Forever?” she asked, still staring at the boy. 

“He’ll never cross your mind again.” Colic assured. 

That’s all she wanted. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, but she knew she wanted to do it by herself. Not with the company of others, they only ever left. She loved Jerome, but he was gone and never coming back. 

Colic smiled and stood from her chair. She lightly knocked on the metal door so the guard would open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She said and gestured for her to leave. 

The doctor watched the guard grab Isabelle by the arm and pulled her down the hallway to get back to her cell. Another doctor rounded the corner they were headed for, walking the opposite direction toward Colic. She wore her dark hair in a bun on top of her head, oval glasses that pointed at the tip, and red lipstick that went well with her dark skin tone. The two made eye contact as they passed and the doctor gave a smile Isabelle didn’t return. 

The doctor reached Colic standing in the doorway to her office. “Colic,” she greeted.

“Peabody,” she replied with a nod. “You’ll be happy to hear it went well.”

“I’m glad, did you give her any details?”

“Course not. She murdered that circus girl for picking on her, how do you think she’d react to being brainwashed for science?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in more than two weeks but my mom is driving me crazy. I love her but she’s generally a grumpy person and being locked in this house with her all day isn’t doing my energy or creativity any favors. I think next chapter I’ll introduce Jeremiah.


	18. Pathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle's Arkham experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t know if anyone cares but sorry for taking so long! I know when I read fiction I'll sometimes think “Ugh why did they do that? I would have done it so differently.” so if you have any suggestions I'll take them because I don't really have a set plot. I've got a direction I want it to go but I'm kinda figuring it out as I go.  
> If you’ve forgotten or didn’t know the song is Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex.

The sound of a crow made her jump. She opened her eyes to see the black bird had perched on her hip as she slept on her side. She sat up quickly in shock and swatted the animal away. It cawed in panic and flew up into the leaves that bled sunlight above. She sits up to get a better look at her surroundings. She was in a forest she recognised. Perhaps from a mission long ago. The call of the crow drew her attention from the nature around her. She looked up to see it flying in a circle above her. It then flew off into the darkness of the woods. She didn’t know what it was, but something compelled her to follow. It was odd, there was nothing here. No sound other than the crow’s calls, no other animals but the crow. Stepping of dry leaves didn't make a crunch, the cool breeze didn't make a whistle. Stepping over rocks and fallen branches made following the bird difficult. She made it to a full sprint, chasing the crow, when she woke to the feeling of a hand on her arm. It had no temperature, which confused her. 

When she opened her eyes to see Jerome sitting on the floor next to the bed in front of her face. Strange. He’s never been able to touch her before. 

“Morning gorgeous” he greeted with a cheeky smile. “Ready for the big day, it's gonna be a rough one.”

Isabelle heard the sound of footsteps approaching her cell and tensed. Colic wasn't very descriptive about the “treatment”. This was Arkham so that could mean a number of things. Electrotherapy, locking her in a room in a straitjacket, etc. 

Jerome looked to the sound. “You should escape. That's what I’d do.” he said and took his hand from her arm and stood. 

Isabelle sat up to stretch her sore muscles. A rock would be more comfortable than the mattresses in Arkham. 

“You are dead, anything you would do, I not going to consider.“ she said with her arms above her head. 

‘You wouldn't even be here if you listened to me.” Jerome replied smuggly. 

The muscular guard easily pulled her to her feet as Isabelle rolled her eyes at the ginger. She was pulled out of the room and Jerome followed. 

She was brought to a room with nothing but a small light hanging from the ceiling, a small metal table, and a chair with ankle and wrist straps which the guard was quick to fasten. Isabelle didn't fight back, she’s been tasered before and it's not a pleasant feeling. Plus, he was stronger than her. Jerome sat on the table.

She wiggled her arms and legs to see how much mobility she had, which was none. She sighed heavily in defeat. She jumped at the sudden slam of the heavy door. 

“Good morning Isabelle, How are you feeling?” Dr Colic asked, writing on a paper held to a clipboard: Cherenova, day one.

Isabelle was getting tired of doctors asking that. They knew the answer was shitty. She held a resting bitch face. “Hungry” 

“You can eat when we're finished here.” Peabody said plainly. 

“What’s going on?”

“We're starting your treatment today. To help you forget about Jerome.” she replied, pulling out a cassette player from the pocket of her white jacket and placed it on the table text to Jerome. “Most patients respond to physical pain, but you've been through worse than electrocution haven't you?” the doctor asked with a stale smile, then hit the play button. 

Isabelle immediately recognised the song. The memory had played itself in her head many times. 

“This is the song that played just before the cops arrived, correct?” Colic readied her pen. 

“Oh I remember,” Jerome said with a wide smile. “I forgot. Did I kiss you or did you kiss me?”

“Reports say you and Jerome shared quite an intimate moment to this song. This bringing back any memories?” 

“Turn it off” Isabelle clenched her fists in the restraints.

“No keep it on, if i was alive it'd be making me all warm and fuzzy.” Jerome leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes.

“Shut up Jerome” she groaned.

“Jerome? Is he here?” pried doctor Colic. “Isabelle is Jerome in the room?”

The music hurt her heart, each note felt like being stabbed in the chest. Her breath became forceful and her knuckles began to turn white. 

“Answer me, and i'll turn it off.”

If she wasn’t dehydrated and stubborn Isabelle's uniform would be soaked in tears. But she had nothing to cry and she refused to let this woman see her like that. 

“Isabelle,” the woman warned but Isabelle shook her head. “Fine, have it your way” she said and knocked on the door. The guard from the other side opened it and she walked out without another word. 

Isabelle thrashed in her restraints. The table holding the source of her pain was so close yet so far. 

Jerome giggled at her struggle. “Give her what she wants and she’ll give you what you want.” Jerome said moving to the floor to be in front of her.

“I'm not giving her anything.” she said, yanking at her strapped down limbs. 

Jerome clicked his tongue. “I wouldn't either. If I were you, I'd wait and see how long they’re willing to let ya starve.” he smirked. 

__________

It felt like hours had passed when Dr Colic returned. Isabelle’s wrists were now red and burning. She had closed her eyes and subconsciously started singing to the song under her breath. She hadn't even noticed the lyrics before. A few of the words she didn't know such as apocalypse and piano. When Isabelle hadn't opened her eyes at her arrival, Colic cleared her throat. The girl's eyes opened and looked at the woman standing beside her. 

“Afternoon” Colic greeted.

Isabelle closed her eyes and licked her dry lips. 

Colic noticed the teen’s pained expression. “I’m sure the headache will go away as soon as I turn off the music.” the doctor reassured.

Isabelle was tired of fighting. What did she lose from cooperating? “Jerome’s sitting on the table.” she whispered. 

Jerome clicked his tongue. “Snitch” 

Colic smiled victoriously. She pressed a button on the tape and the room went silent. 

Isabelle noticed Colic's nails were now a bright red. The fact she was sitting there being emotionally tortured for hours while Colic was painting her nails was infuriating. 

“What is apocalypse?” Isabelle whispered.

Colic paused and made a face at the odd question. “The end of the world.”

The guard unstrapped Isabelle and grabbed her arm.

“What is piano?” she asked as the man led her to the doctor’s office, following behind Colic, and Jerome behind them.

“A musical instrument.” Colic answered, sitting in her cushioned chair. 

Jeorme sat in the chair across for her. The guard let Isabelle go and closed the door behind him. Colic gestured for her to sit down and Isabelle shook her head. 

“Sit down” the woman demanded.

Jerome smirked at her and patted his lap. 

Isabelle huffed and sat in Jerome’s lap. “How was that helping?” Isabelle asked. She tensed when Jerome wrapped his arms around her gently. 

“We’re interested in the way your brain defends itself against itself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Isabelle asked, about ready to slit this woman’s throat. 

“Like how your mind distracts from your hallucinations with pain, we want to see how you'll respond to pain. Our hypothesis is you’ll wipe your own memory.”

“You’re brainwashing me?”

“Maybe. We’re not sure how your defence mechanism will react.” Colic explained innocently. 

Jerome’s arms tightened around Isabelle’s waist. “Can I at least get some medicine to stop hallucinations?” 

“No, any new factors may mess with the results.”

___________

“She knows.”

“So?” 

The two doctors sat in the employee lounge drinking horribly made coffee. Arkham Asylum isn't exactly well funded. 

“So she’ll fight it.”

“Good, it will make the reports more interesting. How long would you say she'll start responding positively?” Peabody asked, taking a sip. 

“Maybe a few weeks. Much faster if we had something more than that song.”

“Then find something.”

“Peabody, I have nothing else.” Colic said frustrated. 

“Figure it out.” Peabody shrugged. 

“She has very few good memories with Jerome.”

“Then don't use specific memories, be broad and general.”

________

Colic didn’t understand what Peabody wanted her to do. Isabelle had no objects to remiss over, no photos, nothing. So she had to stick with good old talking. 

With herself sat at her desk, and Isabelle across from her, again in Jerome’s lap with his arms around her waist, she asked “Isabelle, do you remember what it felt like when Jerome spoke to you?”

Isabelle her furrowed eyebrows. 

“What about when he spoke to you? How it made you feel? Or just when he looked at you?” 

Cocic drowned Isabelle in questions she didn’t give her time to answer. The doctor didn't want the answer. “When you were near him did it make you feel good?”

Jerome’s grip became suffocating. Isabelle couldn’t breath, and the crushing feeling drew tears. “How could you go from alive and kickin at a nightclub to this? Because little old me? Pathetic.” Jerome's voice whispered in her ear.

Isabelle clenched her fists, swallowed and took a deep breath. He was right, this was pathetic. “Yes, I remember.” she said with bitterness. 

Colic smiled at the shock of response instead of more tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about dreams but the whole crow in the forest thing I was trying to symbolise her loneliness. I was gonna have her go through electrotherapy like all the other Jerome fictions but what is that gonna do other than waste electricity so we’ll just stick with manipulative therapists. I know this isn't the quality it should be considering it took weeks to write and like the chapter before last, it's messy and blurry but i think it works because her mind kind of ends up messy. I used google translate for the Russian bits so if you speak Russian and it's inaccurate sorry. I think i'll use a little Russian thoughout the story just cause i think it's a big part of her. Thanks for reading :) (The next one will come sooner)


	19. That's a Nice Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle is released from Arkham.  
> Isabelle meets Jeremiah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether or not to have Isabelle and Jerome do the deed. But I decided I really wanted to make the pop your cherry line and to have something to connect Jerome and Isabelle more.

The cold winter air of Gotham mixed with the naturally cold air of Arkham caused the windows to frost, making it difficult for Isabelle to see the snow coating the streets outside. 

As the season changed Isabelle went through routine “therapy” and she eventually started to forget. Her brain just seemed to block the painful and unwanted memories out. She forgot every painful memory Dr Colic repeatedly brought up. Her neglectful father, her unloving mother, the GRU, Jerome, everything. 

The things she couldn't remember, like how she got here, her common sense filled in the blanks. She was in a prison, so she obviously did something bad. And she had random scars on random parts of her body, so it couldn't have been something as simple as stealing. 

And in the back of her mind, if she reached deep enough, she somehow knew Russain. She’d often talk to herself in what seemed her first language. It just made more sense to her than English. The words came easier. She could make more complicated sentences. 

With the time she had away from Colic and that damn song that was now tattooed in her brain, she searched her mind for the lost memories. 

Peabody was fascinated with Colic’s reports and asked to see the effects for herself. 

Isabelle was already waiting for them as usual, chained to her uncomfortable chair. With Peabody standing in the corner of the room, Colic asked “Доброе утро, Изабель, как дела? (Good morning Isabelle, how are you?)” Colic had learned a little Russian, hoping to erase every memory back to her childhood. Her English had gotten quite bad without the memories of practice at the circus. 

“ Нормально, а Вы? (Fine and you?)” the girl responded as plainly as the expression on her face.

“у меня все в порядке, спасибо (I'm well thank you)”

Peabody cleared her throat to catch the other doctor’s attention. She crossed her arms and signaled for her to get on with it with a wave of her hand. 

Colic picked up the signal and nodded. “We recently got a new inmate, Oswald Cobblepot. We've put him in Jerome’s old cell.”

Isabelle noted the change to English and prepared to reply politely like Colic had been teaching her, but stopped and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at the unfamiliar name. “Jerome?”

Colic smiled at Peabody with pride, and Peabody smiled back and nodded in approval. 

_____________

This office was much nicer than Dr Colic’s. It’s desk was bigger, it had a telephone, there were shelves behind it holding all kinds of knick knacks, and it had windows.

Isabelle was sat in front of a bald man with red, circular glasses who Colic introduced as Dr Strange. The two women stood on either side of Isabelle’s chair, Strange sat across from her at his desk. 

“The research we have conducted on your brain will help many future patients. Thank you for your help, you're free to go.”

They knew she’s more dangerous than she arrived, with her training fresh in her mind. But with the experiments a success she was just a waste of space. 

“I’m free?”

“Yes,” Strange pulled a sheet of paper from a beige file with her name and picture on the corner. “This certificate, issued by the Gotham board of health and hygiene, states that Isabelle Cherenova has passed all mandated tests and by the laws of Gotham city is hereby declared sane.” he drew out the word “sane” and handed her the certificate. 

She took it and eyed it carefully. “I was insane?” 

Strange stopped. He wasn’t supposed to say that. Peabody clenched her jaw and exchanged looks with Strange. “Uh… yes. You were experiencing anger issues. Often got into fights.”

Isabelle assumed that’s where all the scars came from. 

“Why is Cobblepot here?” she asked out of curiosity. It was always interesting to know what kinds of things these crazy people had to do to get sent here. 

“Seeing it was a success, we’ll be putting under the same therapy as you.” 

___________

The smell of fresh air hit her like a brick. She couldn't understand why someone would willingly work in a place like Arkham Asylum. 

The moonlight was covered by the usual thick layer of clouds. It wasn’t yet cold enough for snow, so that left Isabelle to be soaked by the rain. Not cold enough for snow, but still cold as hell. 

They had given her the sweater, jacket, long jeans, and boots she arrived in the first time, when she killed Mary Lloyd. Which she was grateful for, she would have froze in her other outfit. 

Isabelle reached the inner city and didn’t know what to do or where to go. She was starving, but had no money. Maybe she could take something from a restaurant's garbage, it wouldn't be any different from Arkham’s food. Or maybe she could steal something. It was dark and the rain made it difficult to see. 

Seems like everyone and their mother had the same idea. 

She felt a small gun pressed against her head. “Hands up” said a deep voice from behind her. 

When she didn’t move the man loaded the weapon with a click of the hammer as a final warning. “I said hands up, turn around slowly,” he demanded. 

This was her chance, but she needed the right position. She raised her arms and turned to face him slowly. He had a black ski mask on with holes cut out for him to see. He probably didn’t do this a lot. If he had, he’d bother doing a more efficient job on the holes, or just get an actual mask. This meant it would be easy to attain the upper hand. 

“Empty your pockets.” he demanded. 

Idiot, what if she had a weapon on her? He just gave her an opportunity to pull it on him. Anyone with experience would search her pockets themself. 

Before he could even flinch, Isabelle sucker punched him in the nose. He cried out in pain and dropped the gun to hold his nose. 

Isabelle picked it up and shoved him to the ground. He caught himself with his bloody hands but Isabelle stepped on him, causing him to lay flat on his stomach. She pulled the trigger twice but the damn thing wasn’t loaded. She stepped off him and groaned, walking away without looking back. She didn't need to in order to know he was still laying there crying.

Isabelle walked along the sidewalk down the wet streets, her shoes occasionally getting splashed by passing cars, looking for someone rich enough to be worth her time. 

The teen continued to aimlessly walk when she noticed a flash of red walk past her. She looked over her shoulder to see a ginger haired man. He kept his head down and his hands in his pockets as he walked at a fast pace. 

He stopped briefly and took a small cloth out of an inner pocket of his coat he used to clean his glasses. He had on quite a handsome wristwatch Isabelle noticed. She smiled and began to follow him when he put his glasses back on and continued his fast pace. 

He turned into an alley, Isabelle a few steps behind. But it wasn't soon enough. Some other man, this one not wearing a mask, already had a gun to the ginger’s head. But she didn’t give up so easily. She was tired of walking in the rain.

She brought her own gun to the mugger’s head. “Put it down.” she yelled over the rain. 

He turned away from the red head and changed her aim to her. They stood pointing their guns at each other. “I got him first. Why don’t you get your own, bitch?” 

“I been following him for whole block, dickhead.”

Out of the corner of her eye Isabelle could see the ginger slowly start to back away. The thief pointed his gun to him before he could get any further and yelled at him to stop, giving Isabelle the opportunity to disarm him. 

Praying he actually loaded his gun she again shot twice. When blood sprayed on her face, and the man fell to the ground, she tossed the empty gun and aimed the loaded at the ginger. 

Keeping his eyes down he raised his hands above his head without her asking. 

The sound of Isabelle reloading the gun caused him to look up at her. He gasped when he saw her and his breath became heavy enough to disrupt the raindrops that fell in front of his mouth. 

Isabelle when she saw his face clearly something sparked in her mind. She couldn’t put her finger on it, she knew him. 

“Isabelle?” he whispered. 

Isabelle lowered the gun slightly. “You know me?”

He nodded frantically. 

“How?” 

The ginger looked confused. “I don’t remind you of him?”

“Who are you?” 

He lowered his hands. “Xander Wilde-” Isabelle straitened her aim and Xander reraised his arms. “Y-you were on the news a few weeks ago.” he explained quickly. 

Isabelle’s gaze drifted to his watch she noticed earlier. “That’s a nice watch.” 

Wilde eyes wided. “Please, my mother gave me this watch.”

“Well I’m hungry. I need money.” 

Xander didn’t like company, and he knew better than to invite people, especially people like her, into his home. But being as curious as he was, he wanted to know why Isabelle didn't recognize him if she’d known Jerome for years. And that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss out in the open. 

“Well… what if you came home with me?” he offered cautiously. 

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. 

“I’d assume that you just got out of Arkham, so you probably have nowhere to get out of this rain.” he said, offering a small smile. 

Her expression softened and the corner of her mouth twitched, threatening to smile. But she held back and lowered the gun to her side. 

Xanders arms followed hers and continued his route down the alley. “My car’s not far.” He said over his shoulder.

After a beat Isabelle followed. 

His strides were longer than hers so it took some effort. It wasn’t just that he was taller than her, he clearly wanted to get to his car as quickly as possible. He noticed her struggle to keep up and skipped a step to allow her to catch up. 

They eventually reached the nicer part of the city and approached a black car. Xander unlocked the doors and got in, Isabelle did the same. They sat quietly with the windshield wipers and rain the only silence. It helped them both to focus on those noises instead of the awkward atmosphere. Xander drives them to the forest just outside the city. Isabelle was starting to think maybe she shouldn't have gotten in a car with a random person offering her hospitality. 

“You do not live in city?” her accent shining threw. 

Xander slightly jumped at the broken silence and his hands tighten around the wheel. “No, I-I like my privacy.” 

Isabelle wondered if it was smart getting in a car a stranger, but she was sure she’d be fine. Xander didn’t seem like he could hurt her if he tried. 

“I just wanted to speak with you,” he continued.

The car came to a clearing. Wilde parked the car in front of a small square concrete building. He got out and approached the building, Isabelle followed and stood behind him watching curiously. He held a button and said “Wilde782”. The cement door opened to relieve a staircase leading deep underground. 

“Stay close,” he told her at the bottom of the stares. 

___________

Xander had made her soup. They sat quietly at the small table in the kitchen, Xander sat with his hands interlocked on the table while Isabelle shoveled down the warm food. At least the car had the rain to focus on. This was underground, and completely silent. 

Isabelle tapped the spoon against the bowl to get Xander’s attention. Hoping he’d start the conversation he wanted so much. He looked up at her. “This I like” she said.

Xander nodded and went back into his own head. 

She let a breath out her nose at her failed attempt. “You wanted to speak with me.” she reminded him and continued eating. 

“Right,” he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why were you in Arkham?”

“Doctor said I had anger issues.”

“Anger issues?” 

Isabelle nodded.

That wasn’t true, and Xander could tell. But he presumed she just didn't want to talk about it. “You don’t recognize me at all?” he asked.

“Never seen you before.”

“But i look exactly like him.”

“Like who?” Isabelle was getting tired of the questions. 

Xander swallowed before saying “Jerome”. He hadn't spoken his name in years. The word tasted sour in his mouth.

Isabelle stopped mid bite. She remembered Colic mentioning someone named Jerome as if she should know who that is. “Who’s Jerome?”

Now Xander was truly confused. And he was frustrated her answers were raising more questions than answers. 

With whatever game she was playing, or for whatever reason she didn’t remember Jerome, he figured it was best not to remind her. “No one” 

Isabelle sighed, she was now frustrated too. 

“What did they do to you in Arkham?” Xander asked quietly, knowing it must be a delicate topic. 

“Why did you invite me here if you like your privacy so much?” Isabelle asked, ignoring the question. 

He stared at her for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just… I felt bad for you.” he whispered. 

She quietly stared back. His eyes darted to the gun she had placed on the table. First time in the dark part of town and he gets mugged by two people. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked her.

Isabelle froze, debating whether or not to tell this man she just met anything about her. “School” 

Xander nodded and looked off. 

Seeing he was in his mind palace finished her cooling soup. With the bowl mostly empty she set down the spoon and brought the bowl to her lips to drink the remaining. 

The sound of the glass bowl hitting the wooden table and Xander focused back on the girl in front of her. He took one more second to decide if he was making the right choice asking this. He remembered the fear he felt when the man in the alley had the gun on him, and the relief when Isabelle came to his rescue. He needed her. 

“Would you like to work for me?’ he asked reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's nothing because when I read fanfiction I don't even consider how much it means to a writer but you guys reading this and leaving kudos means A LOT thank you so much.  
> I was watching Gotham tv essays whilst in an English class zoom and one of them mentioned how Gotham probably would have been better off just sticking to Jerome. And I realised that I've never read a fanfiction where Jeremiah never existed. So I’m gonna write one! As soon as this one's finished I’ll start an AU without Jeremiah. I love him but I think it could be interesting. I’ll probably start it after Isabelle gets sent to Arkham again. Not sure if I’ll keep her in Arkham to meet Jerome there, or have her get out and reunite them after he comes back to life at the circus or something.


	20. You Can Call Me Ecco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle gets a job working for Xander.  
> Isabelle gets more involved in Xander's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the rest of the story would come straight from my brain but I had no idea how to write filler. So this chapter will be somewhat inspired by Dancing in the Dark by houseofmysteries here on AO3. Another great story you should check out about Jeremiah x Ecco. Sorry if this sucks i'm trying...i am i swear.

Isabelle licked her lip of the soup left on her lips. “You watched me kill someone.” she reminded him. 

“Yes-” he paused to yawn. They both had forgotten how late it was. “But still,” he continued. “my physical ability is lacking. You can handle yourself, even under extreme circumstances.” 

Isabelle hated how complicated he was. It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Xander nodded and scratched the back of his neck. 

She observed him. Xander looked uncomfortable. He clearly knew her and she knew him but Isabelle just couldn’t figure out how. It was killing her. Maybe working for him could help her figure it out. Plus it’s not like she had anything else going on. 

“Okay Mr Wilde, I accept.”

Xander realized she had no problem killing, and would most likely do it again. Gotham may not have the best justice system but murder was still against the law. 

“Just promise you won’t kill anyone.”

Isabelle tilted her head slightly. “I had to, was me or him.”

Xander sighs. “Okay, then let me rephrase that. Don’t kill anyone unless you absolutely have to. Unless the only way for us to live is for them to die, no killing”

Isabelle smirked slightly, then nodded. 

Xander stood from his chair to open the cement door leading to the labyrinth hallway. “Follow me" he cleared his throat awkwardly "please”

They walked through more twisted hallways. Isabelle on his heels to make sure she didn’t get lost. 

“You can stay here for the night, and in the morning I'll find you an apartment.” 

He could just not take that shortcut down the alley anymore. He found that maybe there was something in him that was tired of being alone. She had been his first real human interaction and despite it being under bad circumstances, he didn't want her to leave. 

Walking through another voice activated door, the pair entered what seemed as Xander’s bedroom, which was much warmer than the underground maze, which was freezing. Isabelle could have sworn she could see her breath as she exhaled. His room was as tidy as a room with nothing in it could be. It only had a bed with a nightstand on both sides, the dresser Xander was digging through and a closet. 

Xander dug through the drawers, probably looking for dry clothes for them both, while Isabelle looked around the room, 

She approached one of the nightstands. It had a lamp and was stacked with books. She picked one up and skimmed through the pages, her english had really gone to shit. That, or the book was just a complicated read. Judging Xanders character, the latter was highly likely. 

Xander picked up different t-shirts he owned, holding it up to examine its size. He had already sized up Isabelle when she took off her wet coat to eat the soup. He always had a knack for measurement. With a good enough look, he could almost perfectly guess anything’s exact measurements. A rather useful talent in his line of work. He decided on a plain grey shirt and black sweatpants for her and something similar for himself. “Here,” he said, approaching her with the sleepwear. “Change into these.” 

Isabelle set the book she had down and accepted the clothes.

“The bathroom is right-” he pointed to a door for her to change in, but Isabelle began to strip right where she was. Embarrassed, his heart accelerated and he clutched his own pajamas in his hand. Xander’s mind told him to look away, but he froze wide eyed. Xander was obviously uncomfortable but Isabelle was raised in a different environment, and saw no problem with it. 

As Isabelle put on the clothes, Xander scanned the tiny scars scattered across her skin. It was hard to focus on one, they were all different sizes and shapes. Eventually he caught sight of the one on her wrist. The shape of the J was too unmistakeable to have been an accident. He remembered the News covered the night her and Jerome went to that bar alone, publicising their relationship. It made complete sense Jerome was the one who did it. Even though he didn’t exactly do the terrible things Xander had told everyone, he was definitely capable. The idea of Jerome treating the girl he loved that way made him cringed. 

The bra came off and Xander snapped out of his daze and looked away. 

Once changed she stood holding her wet clothes, the wadded up sweater and jeans dripped rain on the solid floor

He turned back to her and cleared his throat. “Um- I’ll dry those.” he said timidly, reaching for her clothes. 

She handed them over and he basically ran out of the room. 

Isabelle took the opportunity of his absence to go through his things, maybe find something to tell her more about him. Starting at the closet, pushing past the hanging dress shirts, she found nothing interesting. Went through his drawers in the bathroom, nothing. 

She returned to the books on the nightstand and attempted to slide the bottom one out from the stack. It was heavier than she anticipated so it slipped from her hand with a thud. 

The girl bent down to pick it up and noticed a box under the bed. Curious of what he would keep under his bed in a box when he lived alone, with no one to hide it from, she pulled out and sat cross legged on the cold floor. 

Isabelle felt slightly anxious now that Xander had been gone for a while. He could be back any moment. 

__

Xander stood in front of his dryer, just listening to the hum of it. 

His mind raced with thoughts and memories of his brother. Knowing Jerome was dead had sealed most the wounds. But seeing Isabelle had popped the stitches. 

Everything was fresh in his mind, the guilt he felt for lying and leaving Jerome crawled in his stomach. And Isabelle had seen the effects first hand. She probably saw the beatings Jerome endured with her own eyes. 

His mother never technically said she beat Jerome in her letters, but Xander read between the lines. 

__

The box was full of folded paper. Isabelle unfolded one to see a handwritten letter. She skimmed the long paragraph. 

“Dear son,  
I miss you so very much already… Jerome has stopped talking about you, as if you don’t exist… The weather is beginning to warm… A young girl with a strange accent joined us today. She works at the ticket booth with Christine Horace. Her and Jerome don’t get along much. I believe he said her name was-” 

The door buzzed and Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat. Xander was back. 

She quickly folded the letter, then shoved the box back under the bed. Shifting to a regular sitting position, the girl casually leaned against the mattress. 

Xander froze in the doorway. Isabelle’s hair was now dry and frizzy due to the rain. He decided she was much prettier in person than the pictures he’s seen on the news. Xander shook off the thought, and cursed himself for thinking something like that. This was his employee now.

“I have work to do, I’ll be in my office all night.”

Isabelle nodded as he turned to walk away. 

“Goodnight Mr Wilde.” she called after him at the last second. 

Xander froze, and looked over his shoulder before replying. “Goodnight Ms Cherenova.”  
______________

Xander found Isabelle a small apartment near the outside of the city. He had gotten her comfortable clothes, which he made sure were long sleeved. It never got very hot in Gotham. Even in the summer. But warmth wasn’t the reason. The marks decorating her body made Xander nauseous with guilt. And he didn’t like to think about how she got the rest. He’d didn’t tell her that, and she never asked. Isabelle was just happy to have clothes. 

A couple of days went by and Isabelle became a fixture in Xander’s life. For whatever reason he needed to leave his bunker she came along to protect him from any sort of threat. They did come across a few, all of which Xander had to remind the girl of her promise not to kill. 

Since she had nothing to do, she requested more work from him. She did his grocery shopping, she cooked for him, anything that usually got in the way of his work. He even had his mail sent to her apartment and had Isabelle go though it before bringing it to him. 

Sitting at his desk, Xander pours a glass of whisky in a glass as he reads a letter sent from one of his employers, Allan Haze. He had a record of classical music playing in the background to help achieve focus. 

Even if he hated to admit it, Isabelle had become an asset to Xander. He relied on being self-sufficient and wanted to count the days until he listened to his paranoia and got rid of her. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it would be a mistake to let her go.

Xander took a drink of liquor that he had poured for himself. He couldn’t live like this, he was driving himself crazy and alcohol couldn’t help. It never has. 

After taking a deep breath Xander continued reading the letter. 

Isabelle stood at a desk on the other side of the office organizing papers into files when Xander slammed a fist onto his desk. He had told her a very specific way. She liked organising things. He liked having his things organized.

Isabelle turned to look at Xander with a confused look. She found slamming his fists into his desk a bit violent for Xander. They still didn’t know much about each other, but the way he was now rubbing his hand told her expressing emotions physically wasn’t typical for the boy. 

He remembered Isabelle was in the room and assumed her confused reaction. He glanced at her to confirm this before he explained. “My employers want to hold a meeting,” he explained. He said the way we communicate through letters was unprofessional.” he said with distaste. 

“Is that bad?” she asked. 

“I haven't left this bunker since you came.” he reminded her more calmly, but clearly still irritated, and ran his fingers through his hair that parted to the side. 

“Maybe it’ll be good for you.” she suggested and continued to file papers.

Xander slammed the table again, this time causing Isabelle to jump slightly when Xander stood to his feet. 

Her years in Russia eliminated the flight in her fight or flight reflex, making her tense and prepared to defend herself if the ginger decided to take out his anger on her. Not an uncommon occurrence in her past. 

“No! Isabelle it-” he stopped, realizing his aggression. 

Isabelle’s eyebrows furrowed. She was shocked to see Xander so irritated. These past few days shoved how controlled he was. To add to the confusion, he used her first name. Xander had made a point to address her as Ms Cherenova. He thought it was only fair, she had been calling him Mr Wilde since they met. 

The redhead quickly sat back down. “I…I'm sorry.” he said and looked back to the letter sitting on the desk in front of him. The table had shaken at his hand’s impact and the needle jumped off of the record and the music stopped, rendering the room silent. Making the situation more embarrassing for him. He fixed the needle and turned on his computer to reply to the letter in the most polite way he could. 

Xander clearly wanted nothing to do with the outside world and something in Isabelle felt bad for him. Something in her wanted him to be comfortable. After how comfortable he had made her. She seemed to be growing fond of him. After all he had done for her, how could she not? She hadn’t ever had someone she was fond of, or even liked. It was a nice feeling. Seeing Xander upset ruin that feeling. 

Isabelle got an idea. “What if I go for you?” 

“What?” Xander almost laughed. The idea sounded ridiculous. Isabelle’s english is mediocre at best. Xander spoke in a sort of sophisticated way he picked up at college, and often had to repeat his sentences in a more simplified way when speaking to her. And he could guess she knew nothing about engineering. Not to mention the fact she was part of a terrorist group just months ago.

Isabelle went on. “You could tell me what to say, and I go instead of you.” She may have risked her life to get out of being told what to do. But it was the only thing she knew how to do. And if it would bring back the nice feeling she got when Xander was his usual calm, she’d do it. 

Xander turned in his chair to face her. She stood with a straight posture and looked back at him, awaiting his answer. “Be my proxy?” 

She had to have picked up a thing or two going through all this papers and documents. All she would really have to do is present his blueprints, and report back to him the board’s response. And besides, a lot of shit happened in Gotham. The Maniax was old news by now. 

“That’s not a bad idea.” 

Isabelle offered a small smile, nodded and returned to the papers. 

Xander smiled slightly at her willingness to help him. She didn’t have to. Her job was to protect him, that was it. She didn’t have to cook for him, clean and organize his office, and now go to his meetings, but she did. At first he thought it was because she wanted something to do with her empty schedule, but helping him with his work was more than just something to do. 

It was going to be difficult for her and she knew it. But she offered anyway. 

She was going to be an actual part of Xander’s life. But he was okay with that.

____________________

The next day, bright and early, Isabelle came to the buker in “presentable” clothes, which Xander had to explain as “professional”, she seemed to already know that word. A long sleeved, of course, grey shirt, with a black knee length skirt she wore over black leggings and brown two inch heeled ankle boots that made her almost as tall as Xander. 

Xander had let the company know Isabelle would be attending this meeting, and any in the future, as his proxy. Which they were luckily okay with. 

They sat in his dim lit office sitting across from each other, the blueprint in between them on the table Xander had moved to the middle of the room. He had set up a lamp for extra light. It made the cold room slightly warmer. 

“The rainstorm last week caused one of the buildings in Wayne plaza to have a collapsed roof. Hayes and Meyer want to tear it down and build a new one.” Xander explained. 

Isabelle nodded and Xander continued to lecture her on the building and the main points the Haze and his board may ask about, as if he was in the meeting himself. 

He repeated everything for good measure. 

“We should give you a different name to go by if this becomes a regular thing. Do you have a middle name?”

Isabelle furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Not that she knew of. Not that she remembered. But she did have another name. 

“Ecco” she offered. Again, something she wanted to get away from. But she figured it would make things easy. Ecco was something she was used to. “You can call me Ecco.”

________________

Xander drove Isabelle to the Meyer and Hayse building himself, and wished her luck as she exited the vehicle. 

“Remember, when you speak keep it simple and be polite. I’ll be back here to pick you up as soon as the meeting is brought to a close. Please hurry Ecco. I’d like to return to the bunker as soon as possible.” he almost begged. Jerome may be dead, but he was used to hiding. And Gotham housed plenty of other threats. 

Isabelle nodded understanding and closed the car door to turn enter the tall glass ones of the building. 

Meyer and Hayes was very nicely put together, decorated heavily with nice furniture and decorative plants. The glass walls made the room look bigger than it actually was. 

After looking around, Isabelle approached the front desk and hoped she remembered what Xander taught her. “Ecco to see Allan Hayes.” she told the receptionist. 

The young lady nodded in recognition and typed something into the computer. A second later she smiled at Isabelle and pointed to an elevator. “Level six, 

“Thank you” Isabelle said politely and made her way to the elevator. It played light music as the elevator took her up floor by floor. The sixth floor was very similar to the first, full of plants and furniture with glass walls. 

Isabelle approached the other receptionist, another young lady wearing a colorful shirt and big, round glasses and the tip of her hair dyed red. She was filing her nails. “I’m here to see Mr Hayes and Mr Meyer.”

The woman looked up from her nails. “Go up those stairs.” she said and pointed to a staircase. “They’re the only ones up there so you should find them.” 

“Thank you”

The receptionist smiled and Isabelle went up the stairs. She got a sudden wave of nausea. She assumed it was from nervousness. She told herself she had nothing to worry about. Xander went over the blueprints with her twice. 

The first door on her right was a glass room with people sitting around a table. The receptionist was right, that room held the only people on that floor of the building. 

Isabelle didn’t know whether to knock or not and hesitated. 

Hayes, seeing Isabelle stand at the door, he gestured for her to come in. 

Isabelle entered the room carefully and walked to the front of the room, next to a stand they must have set up to make. 

Mr Hayes at the other end across from her. He was an old man with gray hair and a white beard. He also had dark eyes under oval glasses. 

Mr Meyer to his right, was just as elderly looking, but handsome and striking blue eyes. He had a cut of hot coffee in front of him.

The other workers and executives filled the rest of the table. 

“Welcome Ms Ecco.” Hayes welcomed.

“Thank you Mr Hayes.” she said then nodded to the rest of the board. 

She tried not to pay the multiple pairs of eyes on her any attention as she pulled the blueprints out of the black briefcase she had brought. But Meyer’s in particular caught her attention. The way he was looking at her was different from the professional attention his employees offered. He stared in a way that made her stomach tighten and her skin crawl. But Isabelle carried on the meeting.

The time past quickly and Hayes ended the meeting with a smile, pleased with Xander’s work and Isabelle's presentation. He requested Xander made a 3D model for her to bring and display in two days. 

He dismissed the room and everyone stood from their seats to exit the room. Isabelle attempted to follow but was stopped by Mr Meyer. 

“Wonderful job Ms. Ecco.” Meyer said. Despite the kindness in his tone, he gave off a dark undertone. She had to fight herself to not run out of the building. It was odd, she’d never been in a circumstance where her mind told her to run away. Her response was always defensive. 

“Thank you. Mr Meyer.” Isabelle said politely with a fake smile.

She attempted to exit the now empty room, but was stopped by the man’s voice again. 

“I must admit, after hearing you were new and seeing how young you are I did not think this would go as well as it went.” 

Isabelle noticed he subconsciously looked her up and down. 

“I’m glad you think so.” she said and got halfway out the door when again, she was stopped by Mr Meyer. 

“Why don’t I show you around the building? This is your first time here I presume.”

It was very clear that he wasn’t just trying to be nice. This man might as well have openly told her intentions. 

Preparing to kick him in the balls, she remembered this was one of Xander’s bosses. If she hurt or upset Meyer’s in any way they might fire him. If she tried to report him she doubted anyone would believe her. There was no proof he was harassing her, and plus she didn’t even work here. 

“Mr Wilde is waiting for me.” she said simply and turned on her heel out the door, clutching the briefcase to her chest tightly. 

Isabelle wanted to look back and see his reaction, but decided not looking back would get her point across. Creep. 

__

The snow sprinkled down lightly over the city of Gotham as a certain ginger parks his car outside the Mayer and Hayes building. 

The window wipers made their rhythmic swipes keeping the windshield clear while the news played on the radio, though Xander wasn’t listening. If he had been he’d know it would continue to snow throughout the week. And that the infamous James Gordon had been arrested and sent to Blackgate prison.

Xanders thoughts brought him back to his office. To the moment something in him cracked, nearly revealing a hidden part of himself. A portion that he kept under lock and key. This pent up darkness was tired of being pent up. It begged for release. Xander realized that part of his personality had come out naturally. This had scared him, but he also was fascinated by this revelation. It had never been a problem to contain when he lived alone.

A sudden wave of people broke Xander's train of thought. He searched for Isabelle in the small crowd, but couldn't spot the blonde. In Hayes’s lettered response he said to expect the meeting to end at two ’o’ clock. Xander released the steering wheel and twisted his wrist to see his watch read two ‘o’ five. He returned his hand to the wheel and gripped it tightly. Xander was worried someone would try and speak to him. Maybe ask why he's idling in front of the building when he's sitting right next to the parking lot.

He remembered being clear with Isabelle he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Xander’s iron tight hold of the steering wheel eased when Isabelle lightly knocked on the tinted windows. As his knuckles returned from white to their natural color, she opened the now unlocked door and sat with the briefcase in her lap. She took a deep breath in hopes to relax herself. It worked.

“You’re late.” Xander said, starting the car.

“I know, I’m sorry” she mumbled. 

“I told you to come straight out. What were you doing?”

Isabelle didn’t answer. Just stared blankly out in front of her. She couldn’t get those blue eyes out of her head. She wanted nothing more than to scoop them out with a rusty spoon and watch him bleed to death. 

“Ecco?” 

Isabelle gave him a short glance before licking her chapped lips. “Mr Meyer said i did a good job.” 

Xander furrowed his eyebrows. “He told you that?” Xander asked, confused. Neither Meyer or Hayes seemed the type to praise people personally. 

She nodded and shifted slightly to stare out the window beside her instead of in front. 

“That’s why you were late?”

She nodded again. 

Silence filled the car. The radio still played and Isabelle watched the snow fall, searching her empty memory for something other than Meyers to think about. Xander glanced over at Isabelle. Her shoulders were tense, and she seemed to be dozed off and distracted. It was unusual to see her like that, so on edge. He didn’t like it at all. 

“Is something wrong?” he tried to ask gently, hoping it would encourage her honesty. Whatever the problem, he wanted to fix it. 

“Mr Hayes wants a model of the building by next week.” Isabelle said. 

Didn’t like the way she avoided his question. He supposed it was just left over nerves from the meeting. She obviously wasn't a people person. Not that he could judge, he wasn't either.

Silence took over the vehicle once again. Xander realized he never thanked her. He’d been so busy doing things for her, he had forgotten she was doing him a favor as well.

The car approached the Isabelle's apartment building. Xander had no practice comforting people, but knew he use to feel better at the physical touch of his mother. Such as a hug when he was sad, or scared after being chased around by his psycho brother. He couldn't tell how comfortable Isabelle was with him yet. She was very hard to read. So to test the waters he placed his hand on hers. She looked down at their hands, then up at him. To his luck, she didn't pull it away. 

“Thank you for doing this for me. I'm sure it’s terrifying. Talking to all those people I mean. I myself am very bad with people. The day you started going grocery shopping for me was the best day of my life. I no longer had to panic at checkout when they ask if i want a paper or plastic bag” he chuckled. "I'm sure with your accent people avoid talking to you, you know cause they don't want to deal with the language barrier and uh-" he stopped at the realization he was rambling.

Stared at him with a soft expression. Xander barely spoke to her. Usually only to tell her what to do and good night and morning. Hearing him talk freely was nice.

Xander adjusted his glasses. "I uh- What I'm trying to say is... thank you."

Isabelle had been living her life trying to please others as long as she can remember, and yet has never received a thank you. Her anger at Meyer was gone and she looked at the boy sitting in the driver's seat beside her. He wore a soft smile that made Isabelle feel warm despite the snow outside, which her own mouth involuntarily returned. 

“Of course Mr Wilde”

“It will get easier with every meeting.” 

Isabelle nodded and unstrapped her seat belt. She got out of the car and watched it drive away. As she did she held the soft smile from before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long. Online school, sports practice five days a week, and nagging parents is killing me. Plus this is a longer chapter.  
> If you want a really pretty piece of classical music lookup Clair De Lune by Debussy I love it.  
> Next chapter is gonna be a doozy. Just a little something to bond Jeremiah and Isabelle.  
> I debated using “fuck” in this story but decided not to since the show doesn’t. Hence the “frickin”.  
> No reason for Meyers to have blue eyes, i just thought it was the most striking and noticeable color. Like you look at someone with brown or green eyes and you think nothing of it. But look at someone with blue eyes you're like WOAH BLUE EYES. And I needed a reason for Isabelle to notice Meyers.  
> Can't believe I've written twenty chapters.


	21. I Will Gut You Like a Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Meyer finally gets what he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I reworked “you and your knives” because it was cringy af. It’s got a bit more flavor now. I also went back to places and made Isabelle’s accent more apparent in her grammar. I debated if i should go back and make her russian parts in non cyrillic form so you’d have an idea of how the word is pronounced but some of the translations just looked like misspelled english so i'm gonna leave it cyrillic and you can just make up a russian sounding word.

Isabelle laid awake in her quiet apartment. Holding her left arm, rubbing circles on the J shaped scar with her thumb, thinking about Xander. She hadn’t gotten the chance to enter his room again to finish reading that letter under his bed. It was the only hint she had about Xander’s personal life. He kept no photos of relatives anywhere, no mail other than from work, nothing. Nothing to help her figure out who the hell Xander Wilde is and how she could know him. 

Trying to figure these things out was sending her deeper into a hole of rage and confusion. She was getting nowhere. The thought of just dropping all of it came into her mind. Just letting go of the past, and focusing on now, sounded relieving. She had gotten away from her toxic life in Russia, and now she was here. With food to eat and a roof over her head, working for someone who seemed to care about at least her well being. 

Work. Meyers. 

‘Meyers’ grumbled a whisper. 

Isabelle’s circles on her wrist stopped. That was a lot louder than her other thoughts. Real enough to almost make her think someone was in the room with her. 

______________

Xander took his time with the model requested by Hayes in order to display his work’s perfection. 

It still snowed. With the windshield wipers on and the heater warming the vehicle, Xander waited for Isabelle to come out to the car. It didn't take long. On her way down the icy steps the girl slipped, but her reflexes allowed her to catch herself. Xander saw this and chuckled. When Isabelle opened the door she saw a box sat on the passenger seat. With a puzzled look, she put it in her lap and closed the car door. 

“Is this the plaza model?” Isabelle asked.

“No,” Xander said, pulling onto a street, beginning the drive to the Meyer and Hayes building. “It’s for you.”

Still confused, Isabelle opened the box. Inside was a flip cell phone resting on top of a brown, folded piece of clothing. 

“I got us cellphones to keep in touch just in case…” he paused. “Something was to happen.” 

Isabelle nodded, then removed the items to put the box on the floor. With the phone in her hand, Isabelle raised the brown material and realised it was a leather jacket. 

“I also got you a heavier coat if that isn’t warm enough. I figured you’d already be wearing a sweater today.” 

“The cold doesn’t bother me much.” she said. 

“Maybe not but still, allowing your body temperature to reach such low levels could put you at risk of illness.”

Isabelle smiled at his concern and put the jacket on. “Thank you”

“Of course” 

Xander wanted to say it was more less an apology for last week’s outburst rather than a random gesture. But it happened a week ago, he was hoping she had forgotten.

____

“Good morning Ms Ecco” Meyer greeted Isabelle, holding the glass door of the meeting room open for her.

“Good morning” Isabelle mumbled under her breath. She had a bad feeling about today. 

Isabelle set the case on the table and opened the case, revealing Xander’s fine work. Someone has gotten her a seat this time. As she sat down Hayes and the rest of the room admired the model. 

A woman suddenly came into the room and set a coffee cut in front of Meyers. Isabelle recognised her as part of the staff from last week. He thanked her for the beverage and gave her arm a gentle squeeze before she sat beside him. Isabelle found it curious that she went out of her way to bring her collegue coffee. 

“Very nicely done.“ Hayes smiled at the model building. 

“I do think we should keep the roof flat.” Meyer’s coffee woman said. 

“I agree, a flat roof is less expensive and more practical.” said another man. 

Xander thought this would be discussed. So he prepared Isabelle with the knowledge that the original building had a flat room. The plaza was old and because of that flat roof a hole was created by rain damage, which weakened the building’s roof from the inside, causing it to cave in. This new building may not have the problems of holes yet, but with age it will. 

“Actually, Mr Wilde says flat top is reason it collapsed.” she said from her spot at the table. 

“Ms Ecco is right,” added Meyer. “If it weren't for the building’s flat top, so much rain water may not have been collected.” 

When Isabelle looked at him, his ocean eyes were already locked on her. She was hoping he wasn’t looking at her, and he was hoping she wouldn’t notice he was looking at her, causing an unintentional eye contact. 

Isabelle suddenly heard a string of bloody thoughts, followed by a sharp pain in her head. 

This is ridiculous. Isabelle swore to herself if he tried to stop her after the meeting she’d kill him. Shit. She remembered her promise to Xander. Meyer technically wasn’t a threat so killing him wasn’t an option. 

“Mr Meyer is right,” said the second woman at the table.

Isabelle wondered how many women Meyer had kissing his ass and why. Sure as hell wasn’t charm. Or maybe it was and the girl just wasn’t stupid enough for it. 

“Yes, A pitched roof provides more structure and stability than a flat roof, as well as excellent drainage in areas that receive large amounts of rain.” another man agreed. 

“Well, I’m convinced.” Hayes placed his hands on the table and stood from his seat. “Pitched roof it is.” he smiled. “We’ll start construction immediately”. Most of the members stood to leave. “Nelson, Whitlow, and Miller, stay here to talk expenses with me. The rest of you, have a great weekend.”

With the meeting at a conclusion the people dispersed. With most of the building’s interior being glass, heading down the long staircase Isabelle was able to look back and see Meyer walking down the steps with his arm wrapped around yet another woman not from the meeting. He seemed to have one for every hour of the day. 

Isabelle got off the last step on the staircase, mere feet away from the elevator when she felt a large hand lightly grasp her shoulder. 

Meyers. 

“Ecco, another meeting concluding with success. Congratulations,”

“Thank you,” the girl attempted to continue toward the elevator, but his grip tightened. Now the man’s grip wouldn’t allow freedom without violently shaking her body free. 

As Meyer opened his mouth to speak Isabelle got an idea. “Do you have a-” she looked at her feet to search for the right translation. She was taught it had a different name in every country so naturally visiting many different counties she often forgot which word was to be said where. 

“Do you have a restroom?” Isabelle asked after the quick second of thought. 

Meyer smiled at the opportunity she had just offered him. “Yes, multiple.” he let go of her shoulder, knowing she wouldn’t leave without the information he possessed. “Maybe if you'd taken my tour offer last week you'd know that.”

Asshole. 

“Where is it?”

“Follow me,”

He was relentless. But she was sure he wouldn't try anything in public and hopefully wouldn’t enter the women's restroom. So she followed, but kept her distance. She decided she didn’t even like the way he smelled. He wore a very strong cologne. Isabelle wondered if that was a normal thing. Every man she passed seemed to wear some. Xander did not however. 

He did have a certain scent to him, but Isabelle could tell it was natural. She supposed it was because he never left the bunker, therefore had no one to impress. 

It was a short walk to the bathroom. Once there, Isabelle reached for the door. “Thank you” she mumbled out of politeness. Thank you for saving me from yourself, she meant. 

Isabelle was barely able to get the swig door halfway open before Meyers pushed it closed again. “You’re a woman of few words. I admire that.” When the girl didn’t respond he went on. “When you finish up there,” he gestures in the bathroom. “why don’t we go back to my place. I could make us a nice dinner-” 

“No thank you” she interrupted with a hint of venom. Isabelle knew fear was the only way to get people to do what you want, but for the sake of Xander, she’d try to be sensible first. 

Isabelle pulled the door’s handle as hard as she could. This time the man let it open. 

Meyer was getting frustrated. It usually isn't this difficult for him. He was handsome, and he knew it. He’s had his way with every woman he’s tried. Nearly every woman in the building. Which was few, but still. Meyer would be damned if the new girl’s stubbornness broke his streak. 

Isabelle walked into the washroom, letting the heavy door begin to close on its own. But Meyers held the door open to carry on the conversation. 

“Maybe if I threatened Mr Wilde’s job here you'd reconsider.” he says with a dirty smirk. 

This was not happening. He wasn’t taking the hint, and he had all the power. Dinner was definitely not happening. The young girl just wanted this creep to leave her alone. And so she’ll try fear. 

‘Slit his throat’ 

The suggestion of going for the neck came to her mind, but not from a regular thought. This was louder, as if someone had whispered in her ear. Just like she heard in her bedroom the previous night. It was sort of frightening, but going for the throat wasn’t a bad idea. 

Isabelle turned on her heel and returned through the doorway while Meyer smilied, thinking he won her over. He opened his mouth to speak but the words came out as a choke due to Isabelle's hand suddenly pushing the man to the wall by the throat. 

“If you come near me again,” her nails began to claw into his flesh ”I will gut you like a fish.” she hisses, her accent coming in thick with her anger. 

She let go of the man’s throat and he let out a hard exhaled, followed by gasping inhales. Isabelle walked away rubbing her forehead, while Meyer rubbed his neck. 

These weren’t just thoughts. Thoughts didn’t hurt to have. Thoughts weren’t this loud. She’d heard about crazy people having voices in her head. But Dr Strange insisted she wasn’t insane. 

Shit. As soon as she chooses to stop asking questions, more present themselves. 

__________

It was only afternoon so instead of taking her home, Xander brought them back to the bunker. They sat at the table for what was supposed to be lunch. 

Xander sipped on tea while she sat staring at the food in front of her. 

He noticed the absence of her appetite and set down his mug to put his glasses back on. He had taken them off because the hot beverage fogged them up in the cold room. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

Isabelle looks up from the table and into the green eyes behind the glasses. She cursed herself for letting her emotions reach her face. “Yes” 

Xander determined something was definitely wrong. And that there was only one thing it could be. She didn’t do anything or go anywhere that could possibly upset her. “I’m sorry i lost my temper the other day.”

Xander was right this morning. She hadn’t thought about it since it happened. “It's alright”

“If that’s what this is about,” he continued “I assure you it won't happen-”

“It's alright mr wilde” she says, offering a small smile as reassurance. 

Okay that wasn’t it, he thought. 

They stared at each other in silence as Isabelle thought about the other day, about how Xander, the most calm and collected man on the face of the earth, lost his temper. Why did he hate going outside so much? Where did he live before the bunker was built? He had once told her he designed the maze himself. 

“Then what is it?” Xander asked. 

“There is nothing wrong” the girl insisted and returned her gaze to the table. 

Xander got anxious. What could she be hiding? Was she debating killing him? No, she had no reason to do that.

“Isabelle if this is gonna work there needs to be honesty and trust between us.”

Isabelle looked up at him again. Her heart seemed to skip a beat at the use of her first name. 

Xander gave her an almost begging look. “I just want to help you”

He wanted to help her. No one had ever wanted to help her. She’s never had anyone that wanted to help her. And under any other circumstance she wouldn’t accept help. 

But he was right. She had no intention of leaving his side anytime soon. As far as she was concerned this was a forever deal. They needed to trust each other. 

“Mr meyer has been bothering me.” she says slowly. 

He looks at her confused. “How do you mean?”

“He asked if i wanted to have dinner with him.”

“You said no?”

“Yes, he was not happy.”

Xander was about to ask if he had hurt her, but realised that was a silly question. 

“What happened?” he asked instead.

Isabelle took a breath before replying, “He threatened your job if i didn’t have dinner with him, so I threatened his life if he ever came near me again.” 

Xander didn't know how to react. At first he was relieved she didn’t hurt him, but quickly turned scared, that could have threatened his job. If Meyer brought it up to anyone, Xander would surely be fired. He just hoped Isabelle was intimidating enough to scare him off. 

Isabelle could see the mix of expressions on Xander’s face, none being positive. “I didn’t know what else to do.” She says. “He has every woman in that building eating out of his hand like dogs.” she says, scrunching her nose with disgust. 

“Is that so?”

Isabelle nodded slowly. 

Xander picked up his mug. “Well then, we can only hope Meyers doesn’t have me fired.” he says and takes a sip of his now lukewarm tea. No longer liking the taste he makes a face and sets the cup down. 

____

Sitting in a simple wood chair, she stared out the window, looking at the moon that revealed itself through a small open spot in the snow giving clouds. She often did this. 

Isabelle still had the bad feeling from this morning. She seemed to have scared away Meyers but still, something felt wrong. 

As if on cue she heard a knock on her apartment door. Hoping it was just Xander or a neighbor, or anyone but Meyer. Not knowing about the small hole on the door she could simply look through, she opens the door. It was Meyers.

Isabelle tried to close the door as soon as she saw the blue eyes. Expecting this, the man stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from being slammed in his face. 

“Listen,” he said. Meyers pushed the door open far enough for him to lean in the door frame. Isabelle allowed this only after something in his hand reflected the streetlights. A second passed and Isabelle realised he had a freaking knife. 

Isabelle stepped back two steps into her apartment in slight shock. He must have taken this as an invitation because he pushes her deeper into the apartment.

“I don't think you understand what was at stake. I say ‘was’ because we now have another problem. And so there is now more at stake. Before you rejected my kindness, so I put Mr Wilde’s career on the line. But then you threatened my life, nearly killed me. I-I just-” he brings his weaponized hand to his cheek to scratch his stubble, as he ponders how to continue. “See, Isabelle, no woman has ever treated me the way you have. You may have noticed the women at the office-” he went on, now fully in Isabelle’s mainroom. 

The girl's eyes glance to the blade, held loosely and carelessly. The gleam of the blade took her somewhere. Somewhere familiar but so far away. She saw a sudden flash of memory. A dark haired man, tall and nicely groomed, plunging a knife into someone's neck. She couldn’t make out the face of the victim. 

As the two got closer to the wall, and the knife became a bigger threat, the recurring echoes in her head returned to join the fun. 

‘Kill kill KILL’

‘You’ve wanted him dead from the minute you met him’

‘Piece of shit has it coming’

‘Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it’

Isabelle again glanced at the knife in Meyer’s hand as he rambled and the half memory of the man stabbing someone in the neck came back to mind. 

“It-it’s not like I enjoy hurting people, in fact I’d never hurt anyone,” he looked her straight in the eye. Isabelle’s back now hit the wall. “But if I have to-“ 

Isabelle grabbed his hand holding the knife with her right hand, changing his loose hold to a tight grip, and pushed the blade against his throat. With her left hand she pushed his elbow forward which plunged the sharp metal into this neck. 

This quick action proved easy with the man caught off guard. She showed him she could hold her own outside of the restroom that day, but he assumed she’d be too scared to try anything if he was armed. Obviously he knew nearly nothing about Ms Ecco.

Meyer took the knife out of his neck and dropped it. He held the wound as blood spilled out like a fountain. Looking at Isabelle with wide eyes, his body swayed for a moment before falling to his knees, then to the floor, choking on his own blood. 

She got another memory, a fat man in a cops uniform laying on the floor with two bullet wounds in his chest. Something in her told her he wasn’t actually a cop. This time, she was actually in the memory. She pulled out a knife, jabbed it into one of the bullet holes, and sliced open his abdomen.

Isabelle approached the panicking Meyers and picked up the knife that lay beside his head. Holding it, she now saw it was a simple pocket knife.

As Isabelle sat on his stomach, Meyer choked out a plea for mercy. Though it was useless and he knew that, it was just instinct. 

Isabelle smiled in amusement at the strange sounds he made as he tried to make words. Not making an effort to make them out, she stabbed him in the heart, trying to get the small blade as deep as she could get it. 

Once she was sure she was dead she got to her feed and spit on his dead body. 

In the silence of the room she realized what she just did. 

Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The voices coming back plays into the fact that under extreme circumstances, like when Oswald’s father was murdered, the brainwashing breaks. Under the extreme circumstance of Isabelle’s harassment, her conditioning begins to crumble.  
> When watching the scene where Jerome goes to the Meyer and Hayes building i was wondering if the man with glasses Jerome threatens Ecco's name out of, then where's Meyer? Well in this story he's dead...  
> I am so sorry it's taken me like three months to update. Don’t expect the writing consistency to get much better. High school fucking sucks. My school is still 100% online. Happy New Years!


	22. We Use Our Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle and Xander bury the body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates. School sucks, lowkey depressed, you know how it is. They paragraph spacing is a little different.

Xander lays awake in his room. With the Plaza building being approved he had no work to keep him up. Staring at the alarm clock that sat on his nightstand, watching but not really seeing the numbers change every minute. He was too lost in his own head. Thoughts about Mr Meyer came up, naturally thoughts of Isabelle followed. She is intimidating. She talked slowly in a stalking manner, as if she had all the time in the world to speak. Her words seemed to float. Xander wasn’t sure if this was due to english being her second language or if that’s just how she was. But despite the calm of her speech, her manurises argued she always seemed anxious and alert. You couldn’t tell physically, she tended to hold a monotone expression on that pretty face of hers. Obviously gave Meyer a reason to give her attention...

Suddenly Xander’s phone rang. Vibrating the nightstand beside his bed. He knew who it was. Isabelle was the only one with his number. His eyes focused on the clock before picking up the phone to see it was almost two in the morning. The numbers were a bit blurry, he hadn’t bothered putting on his glasses yet but he was close enough to tell. 

Xander answered the call and could immediately tell something was very wrong. If the fact she was calling at two am wasn’t enough, her usually calm tone sounded more like panic. He remembered he told her he got these phones in case something were to happen. Not to mention they had just barley established a bond of trust, the only reason she would call was if something terrible happened. 

“Ecco, what’s wrong?”

“Boss I need your help”

Yeah, he knew that much. But he didn’t want to waste time conversating. He knew exactly what happened. What else would the problem be? Isabelle could take care of herself so he knew she wasn’t hurt. Meaning it must be someone else that was hurt. 

Xander ended the call, put on some shoes and a coat, and rushed over, mentaly preparing himself to see a dead body. Her apartment wasn’t that far away, he could walk if he really wanted to. 

Isabelle stared at the dead man in the middle of the flood, waiting for her boss to knock on the door. She didn’t know what he’d do when he got there. Obviously he’d be upset, but why was the question. She had broken his rule. He had made her promise she wouldn't kill unless absolutely necessary. At that thought she realised Meyer’s death was necessary. Isabelle could have easily taken the knife from the intruder and locked him outside, but he wouldn't give up that easily. He would keep returning to her with more threats, more force with every attempt. Killing him was in their best interest. As long as no one found out Isabelle did it that is. 

The voices in her head decided to stay, repeating “he’ll leave you” over and over again. She knew they were talking about Xander. He’ll get here, see she broke the rule, and he’ll leave. 

Professor Strange was clearly wrong, Isabelle was absolutely insane. She was frustrated she had to learn this the hard way. Not only was she hearing voices, she unapologetically murdered someone. Looking back in her spotty memory she remembered her time in Russia. She killed people frequently back then, but that was her job. She did it because she had to. Or they would dispose of her. Slitting Meyer’s throat, watching him bleed, finishing him off with a knife to the heart, that was purely her desire. Her desire, encouraged and executed by the demons in the back of her mind. 

Xander approached the door. Taking a breath before he knocked. Isabelle looked to the door, taking a breath before she stood. The voices reduced to a low buzz.

Expecting to see her covered in blood, he was pleasantly surprised when she opened the door to see her as clean as he last saw here earlier that night. The girl opened the door wide enough for Xander to walk in. When he did his slight relief washed away. 

One of his bosses lay dead in the middle of her hardwood floor. Eyes open, and bleeding from a slit in his throat and a gaping hole in the middle of his chest. 

“Isabelle what did you do?” Xander didn’t know how to feel. He was confident he wouldn’t hurt him. He may not have had any company in years other than Isabelle, but back home in the circus, being able to read people's true intention was a critical skill when being around Jerome. Isabelle held no hostility in her eyes, just panic and something else he couldn't place. It was something sort of scary, but not threatening. 

Although Xander decided he was not scared of his proxy, there was still a dead man in her living room. Fear was the only emotion that made sense in the situation. 

“Meyer was problem... I fix problem.”

Xander suddenly came to the same conclusion Isabelle did, murdering Meyers could have been avoided. “Isabelle, I told you to never kill again. You promised you wouldn’t kill anymore.” 

Isabelle looked down in a sort of ashamed way, but not because she broke her promise. She still didn’t regret a damn thing. 

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Xander ran both hands through his hair. He wanted to throw something, maybe hit something. He was angry she broke her promise, scared of the uncertain future. How would this affect things? This was one of the most important people of the architectural company. The building was named after him for god sake. What if they get caught. He doubts anyone would call the police after hearing all the noise Xander was sure they had made, but they can't just leave the body here.

Isabelle was glad he said “we”. 

“He tried to touch me again.” she admitted, looking down to the body. Meyer’s bleeding had stopped. She felt Xander’s gaze on her and stared back. Despite the terribleness of that situation, Xander was relieved there was a good reason for her disobedience. And a bit of anger began to boil at the thought of Meyer yet again trying to touch Isabelle again. 

“Oh”. Xander took a deep breath. “What do you usually do after you've killed someone?”

Isabelle stared at him. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve killed someone, what do you usually do after?”

Isabelle’s gaze returned to Meyer. “Leave”

Xander sighed. With her clear experience with murder he couldn’t beleive she didn’t know anything about cleaning it up. “We have to get him out of here.” Xandre said with a nauseated look. 

He looked angry. He wasn’t sure who he was more angry with, the disgusting man lying dead on the floor who dared try to touch his Ecco? Or Ecco. Xander didn’t blame her, she had every right to do what she did, but this was not going to be fun to take care of. In fact he was glad she did it before he had a chance to. If she had told him what Meyer was doing he’d have done something far more gruesome than stab him. 

Realising this shocked him. Isabelle was awakening all sorts of new feelings and emotions. Perhaps that was just what being around another human being did to you, he thought. Yes, bloodlust was a completely normal feeling everyone else feels, he told himself. 

Isabelle was a bit confused by how well he was taking this. She half expected him to throw up. 

Lucky for them, Isabelle lived on the first floor so they didn't have to drag him down any stairs. Not only that, at this point it was still very early. The only people on the streets of Gotham had a death wish. The two had wrapped Meyer’s body in plastic wrap from Isabelle’s kitchen and dragged him in the trunk of Xander’s car. For good measure they lined the truck with plastic wrap as well. 

Leaving the city behind, they entered the forest. Getting closer to the bunker, into the darkness the trees offered. They sat in the car in silence. Xander was still hot with anger, Isabelle sat with a bitter smile on her face. Her time in Russia, as an assassin, had felt less of distant memories and more like another life entirely up until now. Having killed someone, and not with a simple shot to the head, made the memories clearer. 

She remembered training, she remembered being the best at what she did. And she remembered her mother, the bitch that sold her for drinking money. Far enough, Isabelle thought. Keep your daughter and die, or sell your daughter and live for a few more miserable weeks. The choice seemed obvious enough. 

Isabelle even remembered where she got a few of her scars. The bigger ones mostly, like the nasty one on her right leg she got jumping out a window as an unplanned escape. She broke her leg, the bone broke through the skin, now leaving scar. It was that or get captured, tortured for information, and probably killed. 

The car came to a stop at a cemetery. Xander figured if the police somehow track his body here, search dogs would have an impossible time finding his body here. Without a word the two got out of the car. 

Xander froze. Isabelle waited at the trunk, waiting for him to pop it open. 

“Shit!” he cursed and slammed his hands on the hood of the car. 

Isabelle just stared, and tilted her head. Was he just now having the weight of the situation sink in?

“I don’t have any shovels.” the redhead groaned. 

Isabelle groaned as well. “Проклятье (god damn it)”

“What the hell do we do now? There’s a dead body in my car god damn it!” he cured kicked the car, denting the side. Xander sat in the snow with his hands in his hair. 

Seeing Xander so upset was just as upsetting as the time he lost his temper in his office. And yet, Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. Isabelle was always sort of a psychopath, perhaps that was why she was such a great assassin. Mr Wilde seemed to have darkness and Isabelle’s voices agreed, it was beautiful. 

She walked over to Xander, he was about to blow. Isabelle sat beside him. “We use our hands.” she said. 

Xander moved his hands away from his face to look at the blonde like she was crazy. He supposed she was. Xander realised there was nothing else they could do. All the stores would be closed this time of night, and they needed to get this body in the ground as soon as possible. Xander tried to imagine walking into a store to buy a shovel with the intention of burying a dead body, having to fake a smile and say thank you to the cashier. 

Xander watched the girl stand and grab a big rock from a grave. She sat back down next to him and cleared the snow to get them started. 

The pair dug for hours. They were drenched in sweat despite the cold temperature.Their hands now numb. Isabelle and Xander decided their work was good enough and they dragged Meyer into the hole. His body hit the ground with a thud and teens collapsed, exhausted. A little bit of rest before filling the hole couldn’t hurt. The cemetery was abandoned and no one ever went this far into the woods. 

A short time passed and Isabelle sat up. Xander seemed to have fallen asleep, his hands tucked in his coat. Isabelle looked up into the sky, it was a soft pink as the sun began to rise. They needed to finish the job. 

Isabelle was significantly stronger than the ginger. She felt mostly recovered, so she finished the job. Isabelle was glad Xander was getting some rest. This was her fault after all. 

Xander woke up by Isabelle’s freezing hands shaking him. “Boss” she called quietly. 

Xander sat up to see the patch of dirty snow where their hole used to be. “Good job” he said. Isabelle helped him stand up and they walked to the car. They did this close together, feeding off of each other's warmth. 

Once back at the bucker Isabelle made them tea. They had no cleaning supplies to clean up Isabelle’s apartment, they’ll take care of it tomorrow. 

“How do you murder so easily but not know what to do with a dead body?” Xander said, shivering. He needed to install heating. 

When Xander asked where Isabelle learned how to fight, she told him in school. He was now helping her get away with murder. Why not be completely honest?

“I was assasin.”

He wanted to be surprised, but that explained a lot. 

Silence filled the room. Their silences became a regular thing, they were both quiet people. It was comfortable. 

“I’m sorry,” Isabelle says quietly. 

Xander looked at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” he said seriously. “He was going to hurt you, Isabelle. You didn't know what else to do-”

“I promised not to kill.”

“I said unless you absolutely had to.” he was getting angry. “If you hadn't killed that bastard God knows what he would have done.”

“I could have gotten rid of him without-”

“Then he would have kept coming back.”

Isabelle returned his gaze. Xander’s eyes soften from his previous anger. “Isabelle it’s okay, alright?”

Isabelle now identified the use of her real name as Xander being upset or sincere. Because that's when he was talking to her, not his proxy. She smiled slightly.

Xander realised he liked the sound of that better than Ecco. “If it's alright i'd like to call you that.”

She smiled fully and nodded.

Xander sipped his tea. 

“Boss?”

He looked up at her from his cup. 

“Can I call you Xander?”

He returned her smile and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They buried Meyer at the cemetery they buried Jerome. Hope you enjoyed!


	23. My Name is Jeremiah Valeska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome comes back to life.  
> Isabelle regains her memories.

It’s been a year since they buried that bastard. Of course there was a huge investigation on Bernard Meyer’s disappearance, and of course no one suspected a brand new proxy of a man that barely existed. They basically forgot about the case and lives went on. Mr Hayes ran the business by himself. 

Once they thought all was well, Jeremiah’s twin brother came back to life, thanks to the work of his worshippers. Isabelle had actually given Dwight the idea. Back when she had all her memories and when Jerome’s death plunged her into complete insanity, she always spoke her mind. If something popped into it, everyone close enough to hear would know about it. Dwight just so happens to be close enough to hear the proposal of bringing their king of chaos back to life. Dwight, being insane and just so happening to be a doctor took this hypothetical seriously. After a few failed attempts, he succeeded. Being unaware he succeeded and panicked, in an attempt to please the other worshipers he did the first thing that popped into his screwed up brain.   
_____  
The night was calm, not that the pair could tell, for the room they were in was several feet underground. The news channel quietly played in the back while Xander worked on new blueprints. After his fine work on the Wayne Plaza was viewed he had gotten a lot more offers from various different companies. Isabelle, having nothing to do, silently watched him work. He didn’t mind. Isabelle loved watching her boss work, she didn’t understand what he was doing or what any of the marks and numbers meant but she liked watching nonetheless. 

As Xander scribbled on the parchment, the monitor playing the news suddenly went to static. Confused, the now young adults, looked to the monitor and waited for it to go back to normal, assuming it would. But it didn’t. The static stopped and on the screen was a man neither of them thought they'd see ever again. Well someone Isabelle would have thought she’d never see again if she remembered him. Seeing Jerome, for Jeremiah for they shared a face, hearing his voice, for the twins shared vocal cords, or hearing his name wasn’t enough for Arkham Asylum's powerful brainwashing to crack. But hearing his laugh, feeling his chaos through the screen was. That’s what cracked the shell. 

Everything came back at once. It was too much. All the memories, all the holes in her mind had all filled at once. Her parents, her spy work, her escape from Russia, the day she met Jerome and everything after. Her breath got heavy and her head felt light, she passed out. Isabelle gasped and twitched on the floor, Xander stayed standing, shaking like a leaf. His murderous twin was back. How the hell was he alive. He died on national television HOW THE HELL IS HE ALIVE? Neither of them even noticed the fact his face was being held on by staples. 

After a severe panic attack, calmed down at the sight of Isabelle having worse symptoms than he was. His concern for her made him forget his evil twin’s resurrection. Shaking her and calling her name didn’t snap her out of it so he decided it was best to just wait. Xander thought he should carry her to a more comfortable spot but realised he was far too weak. He hadn’t worked out a day in his life so the thought of him lifting a person was hilarious. He sat on the floor with her instead, watching her body slightly jerk back and forth, almost like she was being electrocuted. Maybe she was having a seizure? That spiked Xander’s concern again. It didn’t seem like a seizure, then again how was he supposed to know. 

Suddenly the lights went out, along with the monitors. “What the hell?” Xander said to himself. He remembered the fact Jerome was back, with the desire to take and ruin lives no doubt. It only made sense he was the reason the power went out. Xander cured his twin. Why couldn’t the bastard just stay dead? He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and used it’s light to find a flashlight he had in one of his drawers. If only Isabelle was awake she could tell him exactly where it is. Eventually he found it. He shined the light on Isabelle’s unconscious figure and sighed. No way she was going back to her apartment tonight. 

Xander suddenly realised she was freaking out because of Jerome. Does that mean she remembers him? What could that mean for Xander? Isabelle stopped breathing so heavily and twitching. For a moment she laid peacefully. The man just stared at her. What if it was a seizure? What if she died? He knelt beside her to check her pulse. With his fingers to her neck, he felt a steady beat. To Xander’s confusion, Isabelle started crying. She was still, as far as he could tell, unconscious. Xander set down the flashlight and moved his hand from her neck to her face to wipe those tears that began to fall from her closed eyes. A few light sobs were released before Isabelle opened her eyes.

“Xander,” she whispered at the sight of him. With the knowledge Jerome was alive she no longer felt insane. Back to her normal semi crazy self. Insane Isabelle probably would have forced Xander to lead her out of the maze, kill him, then return to her beloved Jerome, not caring about everything she and Xander have been through together. Semi insane Isabelle was less desperate to reunite with her ex boyfriend. She had all the answers, except for one. “Jerome has a twin brother?” she asked. Obviously she could see that was the case so it was more a statement than a question. Xander removed his hand from Isabelle’s face and she sat up to look at him in the eye. Although they looked exactly the same, they were completely different people. Their eyes especially reflected a whole different light. Well maybe not a whole, Isabelle caught that they share a similar darkness. Xander simply hadn’t let go as Jerome had. She also noticed Xander’s physic was far more slender than Jerome’s. Jerome has been working with his hands all his life, getting physically abused while Xander worked inside. The only thing he’s done with his hands was hold a pencil. 

Xander knew Isabelle must have questions, so he sat uncomfortable under her gaze as she studied his body from head to toe. She returned her dark eyes to his green. Something about Xander Valeska didn’t sound right. She had always wondered if he used an alias, but never wanted to ask. Giving his name out while he dedicated so much effort to keep everything else about him a secret didn't make sense. Isabelle started with that. “Xander’s not your real name is it?” Xander took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked at the floor. “My name is Jeremiah Valeska.” he admitted. Isabelle smiled slightly. Jeremiah Valeska sounded much better. Jeremiah remembered she had just been on the floor twitching for a good amount of time then started crying. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. She stared at him, thinking about it. Now fully conscious, a burst of chattering voices floated around in her head like bubbles. But semi insane Isabelle was used to that. “I feel much better now.” she replied, rubbing her now aching head. 

Jeremiah felt she was somehow different now. She seemed so different and yet the same. The old Isabelle seemed almost robotic. This one felt more...complete, he decided to describe it. She was even speaking differently. Her accent was still quite thick, but her english was much better. “You asked me once why I was sent to Arkham. I said anger issues. That wasn’t true.” she says. “Course it did. Your work in the Maniax was all over the news. As soon as i met you i could tell something was wrong with you. That’s why I asked, I wanted to see how you’d answer.” Isabelle nodded in understanding and looked to the ground. “And my answer confused you, yes?” she asked, looking up at him with her eyes. He answered her question with one of his own. “What the hell did they do to you?” 

“They said they could cure me. They thought they could cure me, and god did they try.” she laughs bitterly. “Using my own mind against me. Using my good memories of him as a punishment.” She wanted to slaughter every one of those Arkham assholes for putting her throught such torture, pushing her into a black hole of rage and confusion. Digging holes in her memory and leaving her with nothing but a big blur. Jeremiah looked tensed at her obvious bloodlust. 

Isabelle then realised the only light source in the room was a flashlight set on the floor in between them. “What the hell happened to the lights?” she asked, looking around the dark office. Jeremiah looked around with her and chuckled. Under any other circumstance he’d be terrified right now. Maybe he would be in the morning, but right now he was safe in his bunker with a full fledged russian spy. He felt safe with Isabelle. “Jerome I’d assume, I don't know. I wasn’t really listening to the monitores before they turned off.” Isabelle chuckled at that. “The bastard,” 

And still, even semi insane was in love with Jerome. At least what they called it. But she also had a close relationship with Jeremiah. Two completely different kinds. Jeremiah made her feel safe and needed, but Jerome made her feel alive and wanted. Thinking about it, perhaps Isabelle didn’t really love Jerome. Being with Jeremiah has given him a new perspective. She liked being around him much more, he had a more comfortable presence. 

“Jeremiah?” she got serious. “Yes?” he got nervous at the change. “Why don’t you have anything to do with Jerome?” Jeremiah froze completely. Not blinking, not breathing. “I lived in that circus with him for two years and had no idea you existed.” Isabelle continued. Memories of his childhood came flashing back. He let out a shaky breath. “He tried to kill me.” he made intense eye contact. “Is that why your mother beat him?” she almost whispered Jeremiah blinked shocked. Their mother has always been an alcoholic whore, but she never beat them. Jeremiah didn’t want details. “I suppose,” 

“If he ever tries again, he’ll have to go through me first.” Isabelle says darkly. Jeremiah was relieved to hear this. Multiple possibilities crossed his mind when he realised the old Isabelle was back, the Isabelle that loved his twin. Was she going to go back to him? He threatened to tell him no. Which was relieving. With Jerome back, he needed her more than ever. 

Walking through the maze with the flashlight lighting the way. As usual, to prevent getting lost, Isabelle walked closely to the ginger. Jeremiah got the idea of a backup system for his property. If this scenario were to happen again, he wouldn't have to worry about the food in his fridge spoiling or the flashlight dying. That led to another idea. What if the whole city had a backup system? Or better yet didn’t need one? What if the power didn’t work with untrustworthy electricity?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a lot of reading. 23 chapters down, 2 to go. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
